Harry Potter Rising
by LordPotterBlackSlytherin
Summary: There is a reason why horcruxes were always stored in objects. A decade after surviving the attack on the Potter cottage, Harry displays unusual talent. As he makes friends and learns magic, he will discover that he has been shaped by both his mother's blessing and his enemy's curse. When Voldemort rises once again, he will be faced with a power-he-knows-not, yet one he created. AU
1. A New World

August 20th, 1991

* * *

For years now, Harry had felt like he was invisible. Whenever he tried to talk to Vernon, his uncle would not answer. If Harry stepped in Dudley's way, his cousin would simply walk around him. Eventually, he had decided to test the limits of this phenomena, and moved into Dudley's toy room. His cousin never set foot in that room again, and Harry got to claim all of its contents for himself. It was as if the other boy had forgotten about its existence.

It hadn't always been this way. When Harry was six or seven, his cousin had taken great pleasure in pushing him around. Petunia would reward Dudley for his behavior while chastising Harry. As far as uncle Vernon, anything Harry said or did enraged him. Even so, Harry missed the way things were. At least back then they had acknowledged his existence. There was something incredibly disconcerting about trying to talk to Dudley and having the boy stare through Harry as if he wasn't even there. Being bullied was preferable to being ignored – that's the way Harry felt after years of the latter.

It was a warm summer day when Harry heard a strange scratching sound at front door. The Dursleys didn't have any pets – Petunia would not allow animals in the house. She saw them as filthy – never mind all the dirt Dudley tracked in. Curious, Harry walked to the door and opened it. A large brown bird was hopping on the welcome mat. He recognized it as an owl from one of the nature shows he liked to watch.

Harry crouched down. He had never seen an owl before, and the novelty of it was exciting. Just as he reached out to pet it, the bird flew away. Harry was about to get up when he noticed the envelope left behind on the welcome mat.

He retrieved the letter, and examined the back. It was addressed to himself – Harry Potter, the smallest bedroom, 4 Privet Drive. Nobody ever sent him mail. For that matter, nobody ever sent the Dursleys envelopes like this one. It was made of a thick, heavy material rather than standard paper. The address was written out in the fanciest cursive he had ever seen. Harry closed the door behind him, and carefully broke the seal – a thick red piece of wax stamped with figures of animals. It looked like some sort of medieval crest - the type of symbol knights had on their shields in movies or fairy tales. The letter inside was written out in the same elaborate hand.

 _Dear Mr. Potter,_

 _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Enclosed is a list of all the necessary books and equipment. We understand your unique situation in being raised by your muggle relatives, and the difficulties they may encounter in taking you to Diagon Alley. As such, we have arranged a portkey that will take you to Hogsmeade. From there, a professor will escort you on your shopping trip._ _This letter is the portkey. The activation phrase is "Griffin." We will be expecting you at 10AM on August 23_ _rd_ _._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress_

Harry frowned as he finished the letter. Nothing this interesting had ever happened to him before. The letter was intriguing, but also very confusing. He didn't have any friends, so he had no idea who would want to play a prank on him, let alone one this elaborate.

"What is a portkey," he muttered scanning the letter one more time. "...or a Griffin?"

He had barely finished speaking when a he felt a tug at his navel followed by a gut wrenching sensation. His bedroom disappeared from before his eyes, and he came to sprawled on a cobblestone street. A tingling sensation ran down his left hand, and he rubbed his elbow where it had struck the stone. As he sat up, he took in his surroundings.

There were buildings, no... shops, on either side. The storefronts looked very old-fashioned. They reminded Harry of the types of places his Aunt liked to browse for antiques and decorations, back when she bothered bringing Harry along on the family trips. She never trusted Harry to be alone in the house back then, his uncle was convinced he would steal things. Funny how they didn't mind now. It felt like ages ago, even though it was only a couple of years.

Harry shook his head, snapping back out of his memories. A few odd people were walking around. They wore strange dresses – both the men and the women. Harry looked down at the letter now crumpled in his hand. He hadn't realized how hard he was squeezing. He walked to a nearby shopfront, and smoothed it out against a wall. 'Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.' That didn't make any sense. Everybody knew witches and wizards were make-believe. But if that was the case, how had he ended up here?

The portkey - whatever it was - should have taken him to Hogsmeade. Harry knew he should feel afraid or anxious, but oddly enough, that was not the case. What just happened was strange, but Harry's life wasn't entirely normal in the first place. All the other kids on Privet Drive had families that cared about them, friends, and lives that were quite different than his own. He rarely got out of the house – people on the outside tended to ignore him just as the Dursleys had, so there was little point in doing so. What had happened with the letter was very unusual, but it was too late to say if in a good way or a bad way.

A strangely dressed woman was just about to walk past. She looked a few years younger than aunt Petunia, and was carrying a bag of groceries in one hand. Harry decided to ask her where he was, even though he didn't expect to get an answer.

"Miss?"

She stopped walking and turned towards Harry. "Hello there."

Harry was speechless for a moment. As he tried to speak, his voice caught in his throat. He couldn't remember the last time he had talked to somebody. "I.. I think I'm lost. Could you tell where Hogsmeade is?"

The lady smiled. "You **are** in Hogsmeade, sweety."

Harry looked down at the letter. "How about Hogwarts?"

"Hogwarts is a few kilometers away." She looked around the street. "Are you alone?"

Harry nodded. He held up the hastily smoothed letter. "I got this in the mail. I don't think I can explain what happened next..." The woman took it from him. As she read the letter, her eyes grew wider with each passing second.

"Harry Potter?"

"Just Harry..."

She smiled, handing Harry the letter. "It seems like you activated the Portkey, Harry. It's only August 16th, so you are a week early."

"What's a Portkey?"

"It's an object that has been enchanted to take you from one place to another." She frowned for a moment. "I suppose if you were raised by muggle relatives, you might not have heard of one before."

"Oh..." Harry didn't understand a word of what she had just said. Her answer only raised another question, but he felt that if he asked what muggles were, they would just keep going down a rabbit hole.

"It's an honor to meet you, by the way."

"Why?"

The lady frowned briefly before smiling once again. "For saving us all? For defeating You-Know-Who?"

"Who?"

"You know…" the lady quickly brought up her hand, covering her mouth, as her eyes slightly widened. "...or maybe not. Forget I mentioned it, sweety. Let's see if we can get you to a professor."

Harry nodded, eager to leave the odd conversation behind. He wasn't used to talking to people. It had seemed like the lady was about to share something interesting, but if she thought better of it, so be it. If it was important, Harry would find out later anyway. As it was, he wasn't completely convinced this woman was sane... or maybe he was the one losing his mind.

"Come with me."

The woman offered Harry her hand, and Harry took it. She led him to a nearby building. Through the front windows, Harry could see tables inside, some of them occupied by people. Most had food and drinks in front of them. They were all wearing the funny clothing. Maybe that's what passed for normal in Hogsmeade.

After they passed through the doors, the woman took Harry straight to the bar. A couple of the patrons greeted her as she moved by, and she waved back. When they got to the woman working at the bar, the lady at Harry's side greeted her enthusiastically.

"Hello Rosmerta!"

"Morning Amelie! I see you picked up the groceries." Rosmerta paused as she saw Harry. "Who's your friend?"

"A Hogwarts first year that got here a bit early."

"I'd say. Will he be helping you out in the kitchen today?"

Amelie laughed, letting go of Harry's hand to place the grocery bags behind the counter. "I'm afraid not. We need to contact a professor for him."

"Shame, we could always use an extra pair of hands. Well, you know where the floo is."

Amelie beckoned Harry towards the fireplace set into the adjacent wall. He followed, curious why she would want to light a fire. She bent down so that they were at eye level.

"I'm going to have to make a quick floo-call to Hogwarts. Have you seen a floo before?"

Harry shook his head.

"I'm going to put my head inside a fire, but don't worry, it won't burn me. Remember, green flame is safe, red is dangerous."

Harry stood by as the woman proceeded to pull out a wooden stick and light a fire almost instantaneously. This was the most incredible thing Harry had seen yet. It took uncle Vernon almost ten minutes of swearing to do the same thing with a lighter and paper back at home.

The next part was even cooler. Amelie took a handful of powder from a vase next to the fireplace, and threw it in the flames. They flared up, and turned a bright shade of green. She winked at Harry before murmuring something and sticking her head into the flames.

Harry cringed, waiting for her to pull back. Surprisingly, she stayed put for several minutes. When she emerged, she was smiling rather than crying with pain.

"I spoke to the deputy headmistress, and she is expecting you at her office now. You can step into the fireplace – your whole body, not just your head. The floo will take you to her."

"Like the portkey?"

"Exactly! It doesn't feel as unpleasant though..."

Harry nodded. He didn't want to Amelie to think he was afraid, so he stepped up towards the fire. He turned to her with his best attempt at a smile. "Thank you for helping me."

Amelie smiled, patting him on the shoulder. "It was my pleasure. Good luck at Hogwarts!"

Harry grinned, looking away as he felt his cheeks grow warm. He took a deep breath and took the final step into the flames before he lost his courage.

Amelie had been right, this felt better than the portkey in that the gut-wrenching sensation was absent. That wasn't to say it felt natural. When he came out on the other side, he nearly lost his balance. The entire floo experience was extremely disorienting. He took a look around as he gradually regained his senses.

He stood in a stone room. The walls were lined with bookshelves. In front of him sat a large desk cluttered with scrolls, and staring at him was a gray-haired woman dressed in similar clothes to the ones Amelie had been wearing, but even more archaic.

"Good Morning. Harry Potter?"

Harry nodded slowly, still slightly dazed from the Floo.

"Hello..." Harry was struck by the awkwardness of his reply as soon as it came out of his mouth. He knew he wanted to make a good impression, but he wasn't sure what else to say. The corner of the woman's mouth turned up slightly, but it went back to normal as she started speaking once more.

"Welcome. I am professor McGonagall, the deputy headmistress of Hogwarts. Amelie filled me in on some of of the details of how you arrived here, but I must ask, how did you come to activate the portkey early?" There was a slight reproach in the woman's tone as she asked the question, but Harry got the sense that she was more curious than anything.

"I don't know what a portkey is, ma'am"

"The letter you received was a single-use portkey - a means of magical transportation. While your guardians are non-magical, they should have been able to inform you of that much. In fact, I was counting on it. Unfortunately, you activated the portkey well before the scheduled date."

Harry winced internally. The letter had been clear on when the trip was to be held. "I'm sorry, professor."

The woman looked at him oddly for a moment, but then nodded curtly. "It's in the past now. Tell me, how much **have** your aunt and uncle told you about our world?"

Harry wasn't sure what to say, so he asked the question that had been on his mind all morning. "Magic is real?"

The professor sighed softly. She folded her hands in front of her on the desk."Nothing, I take it. Very well then... Magic is very real. You are standing in Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry, the finest school for magic in all of Britain. Tell me, did your guardians speak to you about your heritage at all?"

Harry shook his head slowly. "They never speak to me at all anymore."

McGonagall frowned. "That is not good. I will have to investigate. Do they mistreat you?"

Harry shrugged. "They never notice me, but I help myself to the fridge, and have a room with a bed, toys, books... it's packed with stuff really. It used to be my cousin's..." He cut himself off. Harry didn't want the professor to think he had stolen the room from his cousin, and he really hadn't, at least not intentionally.

The deputy headmistress nodded slowly. "It is reassuring to know that your basic needs are met, at the very least. Regardless, I will arrange to have somebody look into your home life around winter recess. For now, we will have to find somebody to take you shopping."

Harry nodded slowly, still mulling over his earlier slip-up.

The professor looked at Harry's eyes, and her expression softened.

"I would take you to Diagon Alley myself, but I have an incredible amount of paperwork in perpetration for the term. I will however ask one of the other professors to accompany you for your shopping. I am afraid they are all rather busy this close to the start of term, but I will see who is least occupied at the moment."

Professor McGonagall turned around and walked towards a large fireplace. She stuck her head in the fireplace, and a stream of incoherent mumbling drifted Harry's way from the fireplace. The minutes ticked by. Harry thought over their conversation. He felt like he had come across as clueless. While that was how he really felt, he was in a school, so he didn't want the professors to think he was dim, lest they uninvite him to Hogwarts. He would have to cut back on the questions for now.

A quarter of an hour later, the woman pulled her head out of the fireplace and walked back to her desk. She gestured towards a chair opposite her desk, and Harry took a seat.

"Pardon the delay, that took longer than I expected. Your escort for the trip will be here shortly. He was friends with your mother when he attended Hogwarts, so I'm sure he will be happy to show you around Diagon Alley."

The flames flared up for a moment, and a black clad figure stepped out of the fireplace, his robes billowing around him. He had a prominent nose, and jet black hair just touching his shoulders. The man walked towards the desk, stopping right besides it. He looked down at the Harry, his austere face completely unreadable.

"So… this is Potter?" he spoke softly.

McGonagall cleared her throat. "Yes, Harry was unaware of how a portkey works, or of the existence of magic for that matter, so he has arrived a bit early. As we discussed via floo, you are to take him to Diagon Alley, and then drop him off back home at the location I gave you. "

The tall man crossed his arms before looking back at the boy. "Alright, I will place some orders of my own while I'm there, but I will see to it that he gets all of the supplies that he needs. On your feet, Potter."

Harry nearly jumped out of his seat.

"Listen closely. This is a floo. It can take you to other floo's set up around magical Britain. To use it, you must say the name of your destination, and throw a handful of this powder," the man gestured towards a bowl sitting on top of the mantel, "into the fire. It is very important you throw the powder into the fire before stepping inside."

Harry raised his eyebrows slightly. It seemed pretty obvious that he was being talked down to, but he couldn't understand why. Maybe this man held students to higher standards than McGonagall? Maybe McGonagall had told him about Harry's blunders while she was in the Floo? Harry **had** shown up well ahead of the scheduled date knowing nothing of magic, so he did feel that he deserved some mocking.

"Severus…"

"Spare me Minevra," the man replied. "It's not every day I have to explain the Floo to a ten-year-old."

Harry took a handful of powder. "Um sir, what should I say?"

"Diagon Alley, Potter, weren't you listening?" The man pinched his brow as he spoke. "Go ahead, I'll be right behind you.."

Harry stepped closer to the fire. He couldn't believe he was about to do this. Less than an hour ago, he had been sitting in his room watching the telly, and now he was about to light himself on fire... for the second time. Oh well, it seemed like either he was crazy, or magic was very real. Regardless, it looked like the only way out of this situation was by moving forward. "Diagonally," he spoke quickly, tossing the powder into the flames and stepping inside.

He felt a violent spinning sensation before finding himself sprawled on the floor of a dirty old fireplace. It felt... different than his first floo trip. He coughed spastically, wiping the ash off his face with his hands. The area in front of him was lined with shelves. They were packed with jars, books, trinkets, and a wide array of other strange artifacts. Harry pushed himself up to his feet, and did his best to dust off his shirt and jeans. He walked up to the nearest shelf. In front of him was a withered old hand sticking up from a wooden base. Harry grimaced, turning to consider a collection of black metal orbs laying next to the hand. He peered at the largest one. It's surface was mirror-smooth. Harry felt tempted to touch it. As he reached out, he noticed the reflection of his fingers approaching the orb... only, they looked old and withered.

Harry quickly jerked his hand back. He scanned the shelves around him. Now that he thought about it, none of the objects were particularly appealing. In fact, they seemed repulsive in an odd way he couldn't quite place. Harry stepped away from the shelf, and sat down against the wall next to the fireplace. He was there for what felt like a while before rapidly approaching footsteps caught his attention.

A door Harry hadn't noticed swung open, and an old man stepped in. He was brandishing a wooden stick much like the one Amelie had used to light the fire at the tavern, but he wore a stained tunic and had grimace fixed on his face. Where McGonagall had looked prim and collected, this stranger seemed rumpled and dangerous. The man looked around the room before settling his eyes on Harry. "Well well, what do we have here…"

Harry tried to speak, but his voice caught in his throat. The man didn't give him a chance to recover.

"Judging by your clothes, either a filthy little mudblood or a blood-traitor, and I do mean filthy." He took a step closer, his grimace twisted into a sneer.

Harry found his voice. "I can explain..."

"Oh yeh? Start by explainin' how you broke into my shop."

Harry looked down at his ash-covered clothes. He wasn't sure what the man was talking about, but he looked dangerous. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Harry did his best to answer. "I'm here for my school supplies. Professor…" he frowned, the dark haired man had never introduced himself. He thought McGonagall had called him something starting with an S, but he couldn't remember. His thoughts had been otherwise preoccupied at the time.

"Professor what," the man growled. "You won't be finding any school supplies in Borgin and Burke's, or in knockturn alley for that matter. Not to mention, this store's closed today. I was enjoyin' my day off before you set my detection charms off. I 'ad to leave a really nice lady behind. I'd already paid, mind you, so you better start talkin'. In fact, you can start by explainin' how you got through a decommissioned floo..."

The man took another step towards Harry, raising the stick until it pointed square at the boy's chest. The tip of the stick began to glow purple, and Harry involuntarily took a step back, wincing as his back hit the shelf.

The fireplace began to burn green once more, and a flustered looking professor Snape stepped out. He looked back and forth between the Harry and the man pointing his wand at the boy, slowly raising an eyebrow.

"Explain."

"This boy just broke into my shop!" the other man shouted.

"Calm yourself Borgin," the professor replied. He gestured towards Harry. "This is his first time using the floo, and he managed to botch the intonation. Him ending up here was completely random. I should know, I had to floo to the ministry's transport department and have them track down the exit node."

"But it's been decommissioned..."

"Well, it sounds like you should find whoever 'decommissioned' it for you, and ask for your money back. Besides, no floo is beyond the reach of the ministry... and no magic is idiot-proof, not even the floo." Snape turned towards Harry at the last bit.

Harry lowered his head, staring at his toes. Maybe Borgin would let them go if Harry looked pathetic enough. Besides, Snape had a point - he had messed up with the Floo. Fortunately, it seemed Borgin had bigger worries than what to do with Harry.

"Ministry? Shite. I better take care of some merchandise befor' they send somebody to check the fireplace. That's the las' time I pay "Dung" Fletcher to do me a favor. You two best get going," the man snarled.

The professor nodded, grasping Harry by the shoulder with a vice-like grip and dragging him between the shelves. "Don't touch anything" he muttered as he navigated his way around several aisles. Harry nodded glumly. They finally made their way a creaky door. The professor wordlessly opened the door, prodding Harry through.

Harry took in the street in front of him. It was largely deserted save for a hunchbacked woman walking down the opposite way. She was dressed in the same odd clothes McGonagall and the two men had been wearing. The professor stepped out besides him, and gestured to the right.

"I'm sorry about that, professor. I didn't know intonation was so important when using the Floo."

The professor's face twitched slightly, but he didn't acknowledge the apology.

"Start walking Potter. Knockturn alley is relatively safe during the day, but you seem to be a magnet for trouble."

As they made their way through the secluded alleyways, Harry began to pick up medley of noises coming from ahead. He could hear dozens of voices blended together, footsteps, and even the shrieks of some sort of bird. As they made a right turn, a sea of color came into view before his eyes. Shops of all types lined the cobblestone streets, their goods on display behind large panels of glass. Harry couldn't make sense of most of what he saw. Why would there be an entire store dedicated entirely to brooms? He had a dozen questions he wanted to ask the professor besides him, but he didn't want to risk looking more daft than he already did.

There were dozens of people perusing the stores and the stands set up on the sides of the street. Nearly all of them wore the same funny clothes worn by the professors and Borgin. Harry looked down at his own clothes and remembered what the scary man in knockturn alley had said about his outfit. His curiosity boiled over, and he decided to risk a question.

"Professor Snape, what's a mudblood?"

A couple within earshot turned around and gave Harry a disgusted look. Professor Snape stopped walking and turned around to look at the boy. They made eye contact, and Harry felt and odd sensation in his head. He focused on the strange feeling, but that seemed to make it fade away. The professor frowned, and paused for another moment before speaking.

"That's not a word you should be using around strangers Potter… or around friends for that matter." His eyes drifted away for a moment before focusing back on Harry's eyes. "You do understand what a muggle is, correct?" The boy nodded. "Some witches and wizards look down upon magical people descended from muggles. The word you so foolishly used is a slur for a witch or wizard born to muggles. I would recommend you avoid using it at Hogwarts."

With that, the professor whirled around and resumed walking. Harry was forced to catch up or be stranded in the crowd. Fantastic, he had probably asked one of the worst questions possible. Coupled with the Floo incident, professor Snape was sure to hate him by now.

Soon, they reached an imposing building made of white marble. Polished columns flanked a large burnished bronze door. The word 'Gringotts' was carved in the stone above the door. Professor Snape briskly stepped towards the door, Harry following at his heels. Suddenly, a malformed, leathery creature stepped out from behind a column. Harry shrieked, only to be met with a toothy grin from the creature. Another creature clapped the first on the back before breaking down into a laughing fit. Professor Snape sighed besides him.

"Don't encourage them, Potter."

They stepped through the double doors, Harry walking a little more quickly than before. He was eager to get away from the monsters.

"What was that thing, Professor?"

"Those are goblins. They are in charge of Gringotts, the only wizarding bank in Britain. I would recommend you don't call them 'things.' Goblins can be rather temperamental. That is, if you are lucky. If not, they will hold a grudge for ten years before they strike. Either way, you will be very sorry if you cross them."

Harry shuddered before nodding quickly. He took a better look at the room around him. The interior walls were also made from polished white marble. The ceiling was covered with gold inlays depicting strange scenes, all of which were moving around as if he was looking at a film. Harry squinted more closely before realizing most of the scenes were of gruesome battles – one of them showed a group of the creatures massacring a village. He quickly looked away.

A row of raised desks flanked each side of the room, with a goblin sitting at each one. Professor Snape walked towards the nearest one, followed closely by Harry. The goblin was writing feverishly on a piece of parchment, using a feather of all things. The professor cleared his throat, and the goblin looked up with a sneer.

"May I help you?" it croaked in a raspy voice.

"Yes, we are here to access the Potter vault." He gestured at the boy besides him. The goblin gripped the edge of the desk and lifted itself forward to peer at Harry.

"Key please" it uttered, extending a wrinkly hand, each finger ending in a tapered black nail. The professor removed a small silver key from a pocket and handed it to the goblin. The creature waved its hand over the key, and then nodded, seemingly satisfied. It settled back into its seat before barking an order.

"Griphook!"

A smaller goblin, dressed in a simpler uniform than the bank teller, stepped up from a nearby corridor. The first goblin passed the key to Griphook, and the younger goblin waved its hand over the key before beckoning to the two wizards. Harry and the professor followed the creature through the side passageway from which it had emerged. The marble walls gave way to dark gray stone, and they soon reached a wrought iron cart.

"Step inside," the goblin croaked, pointing at the cart. Harry and the professor complied, and within seconds all three were hurtling down a track, deep into the underbelly of Gringotts. It was difficult to see much of anything in the dim light. At one point, Harry could have sworn he saw fire billow in the distance. He cowered as the cart dived under a large waterfall, but oddly enough, the water didn't wet his clothes, much like the floo hadn't burnt them to a crisp.

"Thief's downfall" the goblin croaked - uncomfortable close to Harry's ear. "in case you take what isn't yours."

Harry scowled at the creature before turning his head to stare straight ahead. A couple of minutes later, the cart stopped moving abruptly. The goblin hopped out of the cart, and the wizards followed behind. The creature pressed its hands against a wall, and a stone door seemed to melt away. Griphook pressed the key into the door, and the stone shifted to present an opening. The goblin barked some phrase in its strange guttural language, and the door grew larger, revealing a human sized hole.

"You may proceed. I will wait outside until you are finished making your withdrawal."

Harry and the professor made their way into the vault. It was surprisingly small, roughly the size of a small bathroom. There were stone shelves cut into the walls, each shelf bearing small brown pouches and stacks of golden coins. The professor grabbed a couple of medium sized pouches, passing them to the boy.

"That's about two hundred galleons" he spoke. "Your school supplies should run you about one hundred and eighty. You can spend the remainder as you see fit throughout the term. The pouches have been charmed to offset the weight and size of the coins - I would recommend you don't lose them."

"How much is this in pounds sir?"

The man shrugged. "Per ministry rules, a galleon a day is the lowest salary a witch or wizard may earn. Suffice it to say, that is quite a bit of money you are holding."

"Will I need to pay to attend Hogwarts, professor?

"No, tuition and housing at Hogwarts is paid for by the school's endowment. The supplies would be free too, but the board of governors felt there should be some investment made by the families of the students. You don't need to worry about such matters. The room you see here contains only a fraction of the contents of the Potter vault. You will not be able to access the vault proper until you come of age, but the contents here should keep you amply funded until then."

Harry nodded, placing the pouches in his pocket. Strangely, the pouches seemed to shrink until their bulk was barely noticeable.

"Onward then" the professor spoke. The two wizards walked back to the cart, joined by Griphook. With a clang, the cart shot back and upwards along the tracks. Three nauseating minutes later, they were back where they had started. When they reached the main lobby, the goblin nodded curtly and separated from the group. Harry and the professor made their way outside the bank. The goblins at the door smirked at Harry, and he shot back a glower which only sent them into another laughing fit.

The professor shook his head before pausing to speak. "Next up is Madam Malkin's. We will see about getting you some proper school robes"

The walk to their next destination took slightly longer since the streets were crowded with an influx of wizards and witches off on their lunch break. Soon enough, they reached Madam Malkin's storefront. Professor Snape stopped just short of the door, and pulled out his wand. He muttered "Tempus," and bright silver numerals shimmered into existence in the air before him. As he pocketed his wand, the numerals faded away. Harry's couldn't help but stare at the display of magic. Even after experiencing magical travel and speaking to a goblin, he still found himself stunned. The professor caught him staring and smirked. Harry blushed, but then remembered he had only learned about magic a few hours ago, so there was really nothing to be embarrassed about.

"Go on in. I must place some orders at the herbalist's. I should be back by the time your robes are finished, but if that is not the case, DON'T go anywhere. I did not appreciate playing hide and seek after your little floo stunt, and you don't want to test my patience twice in the same day." The professor spun on his heels, his cloak billowing behind him. Harry grinned – he wondered if the professor practiced that move in front of a mirror. "And stick to plain school robes, regardless of what Malkin tries to up-sell," the man called over his shoulder as he walked away from the store.

Harry walked into the store, accompanied by a bell chime. The interior was much larger than the storefront would suggest - he wondered if it worked on the same principle as the coin-purse. The walls were lined with huge spools of fabric. Scattered around the room were wooden mannequins dressed in elaborate outfits. Harry nearly soiled his pants when the closest mannequin moved to face him and tipped its pointy hat in his direction. Two other – human – occupants were in the far corner of the gallery. A buxom witch – likely Madam Malkin – was pinning the sleeves of a robe worn by a tall, slightly pudgy boy. The later awkwardly fidgeted as he looked about the room. Finally, somebody that looked more uncomfortable than himself. Harry locked eyes with the boy and grinned. His gesture was met with a timid smile.

"Hogwarts too?" Harry questioned, walking towards the pair.

"Yeah" the boy replied softly. "I can hardly believe it."

"Why's that?"

"I was half afraid I was a squib. I've only done magic once, and that was when my uncle dropped me out of a window. But Hogwarts, that's the best school of magic there is. If they picked me, I must be a wizard"

Harry frowned. "What's a squib?"

The other boy looked Harry up and down, his eyes drifting over the muggle clothing. "Are you the first magical in your family? A squib is a wizard-born person, but they can't use magic."

Harry nodded slowly. He tried to think back to a time when he had used magic, but he had trouble remembering anything of the sort. He felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. What if there was a mistake? What if he really wasn't a wizard? The other boy seemed to pick up on Harry's dilemma and quickly spoke up.

"Don't worry about that though. Like I said – if you got a letter from Hogwarts, you must be a wizard. My name is Neville by the way, Neville Longbottom."

"Harry, Harry Potter."

"No way!" The other boy looked up at Harry's scar before meeting his eyes once more. "I can't believe I didn't notice it earlier."

Harry rubbed his forehead. "It's just a scar. My aunt said I got it when I fell down the stairs when I was little."

Neville shook his head eagerly. "That can't be right. If you're Harry Potter, then you're the boy who lived. You're the one who beat You-Know-Who? You and your parents are heroes."

Harry frowned. "My parents died in a car accident – what's so heroic about that? And who-do-I-know?"

Nevile shoulders slumped, his smile slowly fading. "Maybe I made a mistake. Sorry about your parents. Gran keeps telling me I talk without thinking sometimes."

Harry waved his hand. "Don't worry about it. Hey, maybe you're right. I'll see if I can find out more about my parents." Madam Malkin finished with Neville's robes, and patted him on the shoulder.

"All done, young Longbottom. Tell your grandmother I said hello." She pulled the robe off Neville's shoulders, careful not to disturb the pins. The boy smoothed the robe underneath with his hands. "I will send your set of robes by floo when they are ready. Don't worry about payment, I will put it on the Longbottom tab."

Neville thanked Madam Malkin and walked towards Harry. "It was great to meet you; I hope we'll see each other on the train." The boy blushed before quickly adding "if you want to sit together, that is."

Harry grinned back. "Of course, Neville. I don't know what you mean by the train, but we'll see each other again – if not there then at Hogwarts." Neville seemed nice enough. Besides, Harry wasn't exactly drowning in friends.

Neville waved as he walked towards a granite fireplace off to the side of the gallery. He took a fistful of powder, spoke "Longbottom Manor", and vanished into the green flames. Harry waved after the boy and stepped up to Madam Malkin.

"Hello young man. Hogwarts I presume?"

"Yes."

"Just take a seat here and I'll have you all sorted out."

The next fifteen minutes were a flurry of floating magical measuring tape, safety pins, and lengths of black fabric. Madam Malkin engaged Harry in small talk, although he had a difficult time understanding most of the references she made. What in the world were the Chudley Cannons? If they kept losing, why would anybody be their fan? He mostly nodded at the lady, and she seemed content to talk at Harry as she worked. True to his word, professor Snape arrived just before Madam Malkin had finished.

"That will be ten galleons for the full set of school robes. Where would you like them sent to?"

Professor Snape spoke before Harry had a chance to answer. "Send them to 4 Privet Drive. There is no floo in the house, and it is in a muggle neighborhood, so you will have to be discreet with the shipping."

Madam Malkin waved her hand. "I will have a courier drop them off." Harry dug into one of his pouches and fished out twenty golden coins, turning to the professor.

"I take it these are galleons?"

Professor Snape rubbed his face with his hand. "Yes Potter, those are galleons. After we leave the shop, you and I are going to have a talk about magical currency."

The coins exchanged hands, and Harry and the professor walked out with a wave from Madam Malkin. The professor and Harry visited several other stores, although the boy didn't run into any other students. With Snape at his side, the visits were brief and streamlined – they paused only long enough to purchase the school supplies. The professor seemed to have the list memorized – and knew the right place to visit for the best deal. Harry wished he could have stuck around at Flourish and Botts for a few hours, but his escort seemed eager to keep things moving.

"Last place we need to visit is Olivander's" the man said as they stepped back onto the street. Harry shifted the books under his arm. Nearly all his purchases were to be sent to his home, but he had managed to convince the professor to let him take a couple of his school books along with him. Snape had been amused to learn that one of the books that caught Harry's eye was Magical Drafts and Potions. That must be what he taught at Hogwarts.

"What do they sell at Olivander's?" Harry asked.

"Mainly wands." The professor replied. "Olivander is the finest wand-maker in all of Britain. His wands will set you back about one hundred galleons, but you are one of the privileged few that can afford it. What is to be seen is if you are worthy of carrying such a fine piece of work. While the wand doesn't make the wizard, it can certainly compensate for some deficiencies, and that may come in handy in your case."

Harry frowned, but nothing the man said could faze him. He was about to get his very own wand!

* * *

 **A/N: I will answer review questions on my author profile page or via PM so that I don't ruin immersion.  
**


	2. Magical Transport

_Harry frowned, but nothing the man said could faze him. He was about to get his very own wand!_

* * *

Harry's spirits fell a bit when they reached Olivander's. The gold paint on the sign was flecking off, and display window was empty except for a single matte-brown wand laying on a purple pillow. The tip was splintered - the wood fragments charred black. Professor Snape noticed his crestfallen expression and smirked.

"Don't let appearances fool you, Potter. That wand defeated Grindelwald. It belonged to Albus Dumbledore in his youth."

Harry wasn't sure what the professor was talking about, but his tone seemed to convey that defeating Grindelwald had been quite the feat. He stepped into the store, and was greeted by shelves upon shelves of boxes. A thin, elderly man slowly climbed down from a ladder that leaned against one of the taller shelves.

"Come in, come in..."

The man straightened as he reached the floor. As Harry made eye contact, he felt the same strange sensation in his head as before with Professor Snape. Harry focused on the feeling, but it fled from his grasp. Trying to hold onto it was like trying to hold onto water. The elderly gentleman took a step towards Harry.

"Curious… most curious. I have never seen one as young you with such skill in that particular talent. What might your name be?"

"Harry Potter."

"Of course. It feels like only yesterday your father was here for his own wand. Why don't you step to the middle of the platform there, and we will get started." The old man pulled out a measuring tape, and with a twirl of his wand, sent the tape floating towards Harry. After several measurements, he pulled out metallic four pronged device, which he passed over Harry's chest and head.

"Is everything OK?" Harry felt a bit baffled by Olivander's baffling routine.

"Ah yes, all is well. I am just determining a starting point for which wands may respond well to your frame and magical signature. I'm afraid that although building wands is an art, pairing wand to wizard is more of a guessing game." The man pulled a slender box from a nearby shelf and placed it in front of Harry. "Give this a try."

Harry opened the box, which held a wand fashioned from a knurled piece of wood. He stared at it for a moment. "What should I do with it?"

"Pick it up, and give it a good wave... do you feel any sensation when you touch the wand?"

Harry shook his head – he felt nothing. Nonetheless, he gave the wand a wave, and was shocked when a ripple of air burst from the tip. The ripple collided with an invisible barrier, producing a dull thud.

"Ah no, not quite what we are looking for. Don't mind the ward, it's just there to protect my shop. You would be surprised at some of the magic that comes out of those wands when there is a particularly poor match or a particularly strong young wizard. Don't worry though" the man quickly added, his speech growing quicker as he rambled on. "I have sufficient experience in matching wands that your well-being shouldn't be jeopardized... at least not in any way that can't be fixed by a quick trip to St. Mungo's," Olivander added with a wink.

Harry hastily put the wand back into its box. A couple of minutes later, he was brought another wand - this one from a slightly higher shelf. As soon as he picked it up, he felt an unpleasant heat in his hand. Eager to be rid of the wand, he gave it a half-hearted wave. A torrent of red flame burst out of the tip, colliding with the barrier.

For the next fifteen minutes, Harry tried out a dozens of different wands. Some were unpleasant to hold, others had catastrophic effects when used, and a few only produced a trickle of magic.

"Let's try something a bit more... different," the wand-maker muttered. He climbed up the tall ladder, coming back down with a single dusty box. "I don't expect this to work, but it's worth a try."

Harry took the wand from the box. It had a smooth brown finish, and a pleasant sensation flowed through his arm and into his body. He couldn't help smiling as he waved the wand before him. A shower of golden sparks burst from the tip, each one exploding into a miniature display of lights – much like muggle fireworks.

"Ah yes, that's more like it" the wand-maker smiled. "Very curious though, the phoenix that gave its feather to your wand – and it is your wand now, it has most certainly chosen you – only gave a feather to one other wand. That other wand left it's mark on your forehead." Olivander pointed at the jagged scar with his wrinkled hand. Harry shifted in place - he wasn't used to people commenting on his appearance, and he had always felt a bit conscious about the scar.

"Do not fret though, your wand is destined for greatness. If you are so inclined - and I am sure you are - it can be for great good."

Harry nodded. Ollivander took the wand form Harry and placed it in the box. "Will you be needing anything else today?"

Harry looked up at professor Snape. The man seemed to be deep in thought, and he gave a slight start when he noticed Harry looking at him. He shook his head slightly, and Harry turned back to Olivander. "No, just the wand, sir."

Olivander smiled, and began wrapping the box in plain paper. "Very well, that will be 100 Galleons."

Harry passed his second, untouched pouch to the wand-maker, who counted out the coins before returning the empty sack to Harry. "I must inform you, this wrapping paper is jinxed to deter underage magic. Only an of-age wizard can retrieve your wand for you. On the other hand, you could just wait until you arrive at Hogwarts, and the wrapping will fall off on its own." He passed the box to Harry, who took it with a sigh.

"Don't fret, you will be in Hogwarts before you know it - and you'll get to use your wand more often than you'll like. Now, be sure to clean it on a weekly basis, and do your best to keep it safe. Wands are terribly difficult to repair if they break. That being said, they are also rather sturdy, and your purchase comes with a lifetime warranty, barring negligent behavior." The old man passed the box back to Harry along with a cloth bag. "The bag contains some cleaning supplies. Good luck at Hogwarts, .

"Thank you sir."

Professor Snape beckoned to Harry, and they walked out of the store. Soon after they were out of earshot, Harry spoke up.

"Professor, do you know anything about my parents? A boy I met at Madam Malkin's said they are famous, but my aunt and uncle told me they died in a car accident."

The man stopped walking and turned to face Harry. He was silent for a moment. "Your parents were instrumental in defeating the Dark Lord, or You-Know-Who as many call him. They died at his hands, and shortly after he gave you that scar. He meant to kill you, but the killing curse turned on him instead. The singularity of surviving the killing curse, coupled with the vanquishing of the Dark Lord, has made you famous throughout the magical world. Don't expect any special treatment from me though, Potter."

Harry nodded slowly. He was happy to hear that his parents had died for a noble cause rather than the alcohol fueled car accident described by the Dursleys in vivid detail many times before. That still left one question. If he was so famous, then why had he been stuck in relative isolation with the Dursleys for as long as he could remember? He could ask, but judging by the professor's tone, dwelling on this particular topic probably wouldn't ingratiate Harry to him. No, it would probably be for the best if he asked about something else.

"Sir, what talent was Ollivander talking about?"

"I am not entirely sure. As mentioned in the shop, it appears you have a rare skill called occlumency. Usually this skill must be painstakingly learned, but in rare cases it is innate. It means you can protect your mind from intrusion. Needless to say, this is a most unusual manifestation of magic."

Harry thought about what Snape had said. It was all very confusing, but he didn't really want random people inside his head, so he saw no reason to complain. The man cast the tempus charm once again.

"We have stayed here long enough, it is time for you to go back to Privett Drive and for me to return to Hogwarts. I suppose you haven't heard about apparition before?" the man questioned with a smirk.

Harry shook his head, a question on the tip of his lips before he was cut off by the professor. "No matter, I've been told children love surprises." He grasped Harry by the shoulder, and all sound and color disappeared. Harry felt like he was being squeezed into a pinpoint, and as suddenly as Diagon Alley had disappeared, Privet Drive came into view around him. His knees gave out from underneath him, but the professor's grip kept him from falling.

"Portkey, floo, and now apparition. Today has been quite the adventure for you. Before I go, remember that the train to Hogwarts departs from platform nine and three-quarters a week from today. To enter the platform, you must walk through the wall between platforms nine and platform ten."

"But that's... impossible?"

The man bent down to eye level. "No, it's magic."

With that, Snape disappeared with a pop. Harry wanted to ask if he would need to cast a spell, but the man was already gone. He would have to figure it out at the train station. With that, he entered the house. As always, his aunt and uncle didn't even notice as he walked past the couch. Harry barely made it to his room before he dived onto his bed and cracked open one of the books he had purchased from Flourish and Bott's. Magic was real, and he wanted to learn everything he could about it.

* * *

The next couple of weeks were the best Harry could remember. He pored over his new schoolbooks, all of them interesting in their own way. He was entranced by the moving pictures in A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration – it seemed even the books themselves were magical. The potions in Magical Drafts and Potions were reminiscent of the cooking shows he had watched on the telly, with one major departure. The ingredients were extremely exotic, and many of them seemed like they would be difficult to acquire. He wasn't sure what a newt was, let alone where to find one. Nonetheless, he skimmed through the book with some interest. A History of Magic wasn't quite up to par with the other books, but Harry read a section about one of the Goblin rebellions. He was curious to learn more about the creatures after having run into them at Gringotts. The text didn't paint them in a very good light. In fact, compared to History of Magic, Snape had made them sound positively delightful.

In addition to the books, he had several visits from various couriers. It was startling each time one of them rang his doorbell. The wizards dropped off the various purchases that he had made at Diagon Alley. Harry stowed the cauldrons, stationary, and scales in his new trunk. He had read about shrinking trunks in his transfiguration book, but they were apparently extremely expensive. The robe fit him quite nicely, unlike Dudley's hand-me-downs. There was a patch over the right side of the chest that bore a Hogwarts emblem. According to what Madam Malkin had mentioned, it would change to a house specific emblem as soon as he was sorted at Hogwarts. She hadn't said what the sorting would entail, but Harry was excited to find out.

The rule against underage magic did make waiting difficult at times. Professor Snape had explained to him that using his wand outside of Hogwarts would have severe consequences with the ministry. Moreover, the man had promised to confiscate his wand during each subsequent school break if Harry wasn't able to control himself on his own. The boy wasn't eager to test Snape, much less the jinx that had been placed on the wrapping paper, so he stowed his wand in his trunk and did his best no to think about it. He was itching to try the different spells he read about in his books, but the risk wasn't worth it.

Altogether, the days passed by quickly. However, there was one problem that Harry had to solve. He had to get to Hogwarts. His aunt and uncle were not an option, and talking to a neighbor or a cab driver about a magical train would probably just get him laughed at. Instead, he asked one of the couriers about the different forms of magical transportation, making sure to give him a Galleon as a tip. The amused wizard had rattled off a proper list of methods. There was apparition, floo, and portkey – all three of which were currently inaccessible to Harry. There was also broom riding – usually reserved for sport, and magical carpets – both equally useless given the circumstances. Of the other options the man had mentioned, the Knight Bus seemed like the best one. Apparently, all he had to do was call for it, and it would show up.

When the day came to depart for the train station, Harry dragged his trunk down the stairs and to the curb outside Privet drive. His uncle was at work, and his aunt was with Dudley at a dentist's appointment, so he didn't need to say any goodbyes. Not that they would hear them. Harry inhaled deeply. He didn't want to botch the enunciation like he had with the floo.

"Knight Bus!"

After a few minutes of standing at the curb awkwardly, he was relieved to see a purple triple-decker bus come careening around the corner of the street. He climbed aboard, and gave a galleon to the man at the wheel, receiving a few sickles in return. Harry was relieved that the man didn't ask any questions, although the shrunken head hanging from the rearview mirror kept up a stream of steady chatter. Ignoring the absurdity of the situation, Harry took a seat near the front, reluctant to drag his trunk any further than was necessary. At first he tried looking out the window, but he quickly grew nauseous as cars and buildings hurtled by at an unnatural speed. Eventually, he settled for cracking open his defense textbook.

Harry didn't get very far as it took only about fifteen minutes to make it to the train station – a feat that should have been impossible. Fortunately, his experiences over the past week had persuaded him to cease trying to explain how magic worked. Instead, he opened his mind and tried to soak up as much of the new world as he could. As he got off the bus, he realized that none of the muggles had noticed its arrival. He filed this information in the back of his head – it seemed familiar for some reason, but he couldn't remember what it reminded him of. He asked a station employee about the location of platform nine and three quarters. The woman laughed at first, and then asked Harry where his parents were. He realized he wouldn't be getting any help there, so he did his best to navigate his way to platform nine. If nine and three quarters existed, it would probably be somewhere around there.

Harry had budgeted more time for the knight bus, and it was still around 9:30 AM when he arrived at platform nine. The train was due to depart at 11:00 AM, so he walked over to a café within view of the station and bought himself a sandwich with some of the meager muggle currency he had stashed over the years. As he ate, he kept an eye on platform nine. His anxiety grew as the clock chimed 10:00 AM, but soon after children began to arrive at the station with their parents, most of them carrying trunks like his own. Family after family walked straight into the barrier between platforms nine and ten before disappearing. Harry got up from his table at the café and walked towards the platform.

As he drew nearer, a man faded into view. He wore wizard's clothing, so Harry felt slightly reassured.

"Hello lad, looking for the Hogwarts express?"

Harry nodded mutely. After years of isolation, he was still nervous around strangers.

"Just step through the wall on my left."

Harry reached out to touch the wall. Between platforms nine and ten. Amazingly, his hand went right through. Grinning, Harry grabbed his luggage and walked through the wall.

The other side consisted of a platform crowded with people. There were families, students, and even various small animals. To his relief, Harry saw Neville standing off to the side. The tall boy was with a sharply dressed elderly woman wearing an extravagant hat, and Harry had seen some strange hats at Diagon Alley.

"Hello Neville" Harry shouted, waving to the boy as he made his way towards him. The lady gave Neville a pointed look, and the boy said something to her, his voice muffled by the din of the train station.

"Hello Harry, it is good to see you again. This is my grandmother, Lady Longbottom. Gran, this is Harry Potter."

Harry turned to the woman. "It's nice to meet you, Lady Longbottom."

"Likewise. My son and your father were good friends, so it is nice to see that you are already acquainted with my grandson."

Harry smiled, shifting in place. He would have to ask Neville more about their parents later. The lady turned to Neville, and gave him a hug before stepping away. "Best of luck at Hogwarts, gentlemen." With that, she apparated away.

"Do you know anybody here?" Harry asked.

"No, I spend most of my time at home with grandma. Most of the people I know are her friends, and they don't really have any children my age. I think she was very happy to see that you and I had already met."

Harry scrunched his eyebrows – she had seemed aloft and expressionless, like if Snape was a woman. Harry shuddered at the thought. Neville certainly knew her better than he did, so perhaps Harry's initial impression had been unfounded.

"I'm happy to hear that. Should we board the train ?"

The other boy nodded, and they made their way up an inclined ramp. Dark wooden panels linked the interior of the train, with silver chandeliers dangling from the ceiling. The compartments were split into little rooms that looked like they could comfortable sit a handful of people. Some of these compartments were already occupied, but many more were empty. The two boys made their way down the train, unsure where to sit. Eventually, they gave up and picked an empty compartment at random. Two cushioned benches flanked the center of the compartment, with a large oval window occupying most of the outer panel of the train. Harry pushed his trunk underneath one of the benches and took a seat. Neville did likewise on the opposite bench. They sat in silence for a couple of moments before Harry spoke up.

"Your grandmother mentioned our parents were friends?"

"Yes, our parents were friends at Hogwarts, and they all fought against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

Harry nodded slowly. "I keep hearing a lot about this nameless guy – Olivander said he was the one that gave me my scar. Do you know anything more about him?"

Neville looked uneasy, but after a moment he answered "My grandmother doesn't like to talk about him. He was the one that ordered the attack on my parents – they live in St Mungo's now." In an instant, the boy's expression changed form a frown into a scowl. "I hate him. If he wasn't dead – I – I would try to kill him myself."

Harry felt bad for asking. He hadn't known Neville for very long, but this was the first time he had seen the boy express anything even remotely resembling anger. Harry didn't remember his parents, so he didn't feel anything when it came to the dark lord beyond a detached dislike. However, if the man could illicit such a reaction in Neville, then Harry would hate him too.

"Let's not talk about that guy – I'm sorry I brought it up. Are you excited about Hogwarts?"

The boy across from him instantly brightened. "Oh yes! I can't wait to make new friends and learn more about magic. My grandmother says I have big shoes to fill if I want to be like my parents. She also says I need to be more independent. I think that's why she was so quick to leave us earlier."

Harry found himself agreeing with the boy's grandmother. He himself was fairly independent – but that was only because he couldn't rely on the Dursleys for years now and practically had to take care of himself. His friend however seemed to be deeply attached to Lady Longbottom. It was always grandmother this or grandmother that.

"What class are you most looking forward to?"

"Oh, it would have to be Herbology. I have a garden at home with several different rare plants. I can't wait to see what they have at the Hogwarts greenhouses – they've been growing their collection for centuries. I want to be a healer when I grow up, and herbology is very important for that" The boy paused to take a breath. "What about you, what are you looking forward to?"

Harry wasn't sure what most excited him – he wanted to learn everything! And so, he talked about what he had read of transfiguration, potions, and defense. Neville answered with his own recollections of having seen transfigurations at Longbottom manor, and of the potions he had drank when he had broken his arm a couple of years ago. They spoke back and forth for what seemed like hours, only pausing when a lady stopped by their compartment with a snack cart. Harry spent a couple of sickles on a chocolate frog, only to have it hop out of the packaging. He and Neville chased it around the compartment for a few minutes before it slowed down sufficiently to be captured. Harry guessed that there was only enough magic in the frog to keep it going for a limited amount of time. He took a bite of the frog while Neville snacked on magical jellybeans, his face alternating between smiles and grimaces witch each subsequent bean.

"Ugh, burnt bread. Do you want to try one – I think I'm done for today." Harry took a bean from his friend, pleasantly surprised by the flavor.

"Strawberry Jam"

"Lucky" the other boy murmured. His reluctance seemed to dissipate, and he ate another bean. The two boys took turns finishing off the rest of the bag in a sort of game. Harry seemed to be the winner, having stumbled on more tasty-beans than Neville. Before they knew it, the train stopped. A voice echoed through the train – it sounded like it belonged to an older teenager.

"Listen up everybody, we will be departing in ten minutes. If you haven't already put on your robes, please do so now. Once you are finished, please leave your luggage in your compartment and walk to the front of the train to await further instruction from one of us prefects. You should be able to recognize us by the badge pinned on our robes. If a pair of red haired twins tell you they are prefects, do NOT believe them."

Harry and Neville changed into their robes, and stepped out into the corridor. A couple of minutes later, they were at the front of the train. True to their word, a group of older students with badges were waiting for them there along with the rest of the Hogwarts students, many of whom were talking to each other in a cacophony of sound.

"All right everybody, let's move out!" an older student with a head boy badge shouted over the din. They followed behind as the group filed out of the train. The tracks were flanked by tall trees on both sides; the dark sky above them littered with bright stars.

"Firs' years, Firs' years over here" a deep voice boomed. Harry turned to look for the source, and found a huge man standing by the train. He had to be twice as tall as Vernon, and just as wide – although most of this man's girth was around the shoulders rather than the waist. The man carried a huge lamp that bathed the area in a soft blue light.

Harry and Neville joined the growing group of first years. The giant man took a few minutes to count the students, and then spoke once again.

"Alrigh' then, my name's Hagrid. I am the groundskeeper of Hogwarts" the man gave the students a big smile. He reminded Harry of a children's book he had read about a friendly giant. "I will be takin' the lot of ya' up to the castle." The man scratched his beard. "I think tha's everything – follow me please."

Hagrid turned away from the train, and the group followed behind him. Harry had to walk at a quick pace – he wasn't sure if it was because Hagrid took large steps, because everybody was excited to see Hogwarts, or because nobody wanted to get stranded by the woods in the dark. They soon reached a wide stream, and boarded the small rowing boats that were lined along the bank. Harry was relieved to see that the boats rowed themselves, leaving him free to look around. Soon, the stream merged into a large black lake and they left the woods behind. A huge castle loomed over the hill above them, its walls and towers outlined by pinpricks of light.

This was it! Hogwarts was within reach!


	3. Hogwarts

_This was it! Hogwarts was within reach!_

* * *

The rowboats glided over the dark water of the lake, sending tiny ripples out across the surface. The autumn air was cool, smelling faintly of foliage. Harry's eyes swept over the other occupants of his rowboat. Next to him sat Neville, preoccupied with the approaching castle. On the bench in front of them sat two other boys.

"My brothers told me there's a giant squid in this lake," the ginger said to the boy besides him. The latter turned his head and raised an eyebrow.

"They said the potions-master picks a random first year to feed to the squid," he added.

"What's wrong with you mate?" the other boy replied.

"It's not like I believe them – they like to play pranks on me. Well, on everybody - but especially on me."

"Man-eating squid? No way..."

"The giant squid is real you know," Neville pipped up from besides Harry. "It was around when my grandmother went to Hogwarts."

"The bit about the potions master is true too you know," Harry added, struggling to keep a straight face. "I ran into him at Diagon Alley when I was buying my scales – he tried to stuff me into a cauldron."

"Oh, shut it" the red-head grumbled. "No need to gang up on me. I bet there is no squid. My brothers are just trying to scare me. You know what, watch this…" The boy dipped his hand into the water all the way to his elbow. "See, everything is fine." He turned towards Harry, grinning widely as he swung his hand side to side beneath the water. Unfortunately, he failed to see one of the oars come forward and only felt something bump into his hand. He squealed, throwing himself backwards and clear over the opposite side of the boat. The water churned as he flailed about with his arms, his head bobbing above the water. The occupants of the adjacent rowboats turned to look at the commotion.

"Help! Help! Helgrh!" A giant grey tentacle emerged from the water, hoisting the boy up into the air by his ankle before depositing him back into the rowboat. As the red-head lay on his back, the slimy appendage quietly slipped back into the water. The boy slowly rose to a sitting position, his face on the verge of tears.

"Was that the bloody squid?" he moaned between coughs.

Neville and Harry looked at each other, both equally stunned by the scene, before turning back. The other boy slapped the redhead on the back.

"That was bloody brilliant mate. We haven't even made it off the boat, and you've already faced a giant squid. My name's Seamus, by the way."

"Ron… Weasley"

Over the next ten minutes, the color slowly returned to Ron's cheeks. The incident with the squid seemed to dispel any shyness, and the four boys spent the rest of their brief journey over the lake talking to each other. Like Madam Malkin, Ron was also a huge Chudley Cannons fan. He, Seamus, and Neville had a heated debate about their recent match against the Falmouth Falcons. According to Seamus, it had been a miracle that none of the Cannons had ended up in Saint Mungo's considering ferocity of the Falcon beaters. Harry felt a bit uncomfortable during the conversation. He had never heard of quidditch before, and didn't have much to contribute. Neville seemed to pick up on this, and shifted the conversation in another direction. Ron was getting pretty worked up, so the timing was perfect. Before they knew it, they reached the edge of the lake.

"Alright you lot, step out and follow me" Hagrid boomed over the voices of the students. The group of first years stepped out after the giant man, and together they made their way up a sloping hill towards the castle. Now that they were closer, they could pick up on the finer details of the castle. The outer walls were thick and stretched up so far that they dwarfed the group, and even Hagrid. Large spires and towers jutted out from the interior of the castle. Most of the stone was a deep gray, and the individual blocks looked to be the size of a large television set. A moat surrounded the walls, its details difficult to discern in the shadows.

The group crossed the moat via a large stone bridge, bringing them to a large set of iron reinforced oak double doors. Hagrid rapped sharply on the door. Moments later, it swung open to reveal the same grey-haired witch Harry had met the previous week.

"Thank you, Hagrid, I will take them from here"

The giant man stepped aside, allowing the students to file into the castle after Professor McGonagall. The hallway just inside the doors was huge, easily larger than the one at Gringotts. Burnished suits of armor lined the edges, and stone gargoyles were perched in alcoves under the ceiling. More shockingly for Harry, the walls were lined with paintings, each one of them animated like the illustrations in his books. Unlike the books, the paintings seemed to be looking straight at them. He could swear he heard some of the paintings talking to each other, but it was difficult to tell with all the excited chatter between the students. The professor stopped walking just outside a slightly smaller set of double doors. She turned around to face the group, and clapped her hands – the magically amplified sound echoed through the chamber. The first years quickly fell silent and turned to face her.

"Welcome to Hogwarts. My name is professor McGongagall, and I will teach you transfiguration during your time here at Hogwarts. For some of you, I will also be your head of house. The start-of-term feast will begin soon, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. You will spend much of your time here at Hogwarts alongside your house-mates, so the sorting carries more than just symbolic importance." She paused briefly. The entire chamber was hanging on her words.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced notable witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule breaking will lose your house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours." She paused once again, smiling at the crowd of students.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place shortly in front of the rest of the school. Don't fret, all the older students once stood where you stand today. Even I was young once and anxiously awaiting my sorting. Please take the next few minutes to compose yourselves, and I will return when it is time for you to enter the hall." The professor turned towards the double doors, but stopped when her eyes fell on Ron's shivering figure. She pulled out her wand, and cast a spell in the boy's direction. The moisture in his clothes vanished instantly, to a loud cheer from the crowd of students. McGonagall shook her head slightly as she stowed her wand and continued into the great hall. The room burst into chatter as soon as the doors swung shut behind her.

"Which house do you think you will be in?"

"My older sister said we have to take a surprise exam to be sorted"

"I heard Gryffindor is the best place to be for parties"

"My father said he would disown me if I end up in Slytherin – I really think he means it!"

Voices drowned each other out to the point where Harry couldn't pick out a single one. He chose instead to look around the chamber. His eyes fell on the paintings once again, and he noticed many of them whispering to each other and pointing at this student or that. They seemed to be able to walk into adjacent portraits. He wondered if they could enter painted landscapes, or if they could only enter the space of other painted humans. His thoughts were interrupted by another booming clap – professor McGonagall had returned.

"Form a line, please." The students rushed forward, half jostling for a position at the front while the other half fought for who would be last.

"The sorting will proceed in alphabetical order, where you stand in line is irrelevant" the witch informed them, a hint of exasperation in her voice. Harry found himself standing somewhere near the center, next to a girl with brown bushy hair. She too was staring at the portraits, seemingly deep in thought. There were shouts from some of the students as a group of silvery-translucent figures emerged from one of the side walls and drifted towards the Main Hall. Harry assumed they were ghosts – some of them bore gruesome wounds, so it was the only plausible explanation. As the students settled back into formation, the professor pointed her wand at the door. The doors swung open, revealing a chamber even larger than the one they were standing in.

"Follow me then."

The group of first years filed in after professor McGonagall. Harry was immediately struck by the ceiling or rather lack of one. Above him hung the night sky, complete with innumerable stars and a waning moon. The bushy haired girl caught him looking.

"It's enchanted you know. I read about it in Hogwarts: A History."

Harry nodded, that certainly made sense. The Great Hall itself was split into four quadrants by perpendicular mosaic walkways. Each of the quadrants housed several long tables, and large swaths of seated students. It was unnerving to see so many heads looking at his group at the same time. Above the tables hung large colored banners, each depicting a different animal. The front of the room was dominated by a raised platform. On top of stood another table, this one seating adults. He scanned the occupants, and spotted professor Snape among them.

Mcgonagall stopped just short of the platform, next to a tall stool. An old pointy hat lay on the stool. It looked fairly battered, and ancient even by magical standards. Astonishingly, the hat began to sing. The song gave an overview of the different houses, and claimed that it would place each student where they fit best. Harry was relieved – if he was to believe some of the rumors he had overheard on the way there, they would be fighting an acromantula, whatever that was.

The gray-haired witch spoke quietly, swirling her wand. A large scroll rose from the head table and flew into her hand. She read the first name off the list – Hannah Abbot. A blond girl walked up to the stool, and the professor placed the hat on her head. Moments later, the hat cried "Hufflepuff!"

One by one, the students made their way to the hat. The bushy haired girl by Harry was called up towards the beginning and sorted into Gryffindor. Harry didn't really know most of the other people around him, and he was nervous about his own sorting, so he didn't pay much attention. It seemed like each house got the same number of students, although the Gryfindor tables made as much noise as both groups put together whenever the hat sent somebody their way. As soon as each student was sorted, they made their way to the appropriate quadrant. After what felt like ages, they reached the P's. Two Indian twins were called, one going to Gryffindor, and the other to Ravenclaw. Another girl followed, sorted to Hufflepuff. Harry closed his eyes. If he knew his alphabet, his name would be coming up very soon.

"Harry Potter" Professor McGonagall called.

Whispers erupted among the tables, and then a steady crescendo into pandemonium. McGonagall Harry walked forward towards the hat, feeling eyes staring from all directions. He briefly made eye contact with a man at the center of the head table sporting a long white beard. Harry felt the familiar tickling feeling in his head, even fainter than it had been with Snape or Ollivander. He chased the feeling, and it quickly disappeared, replaced by a brief look of surprise on the bearded man's face. The boy reached the hat, and professor McGongagall placed it on his head.

His vision blacked out. White pinpricks of light seemed to float in space in front of him. After a brief moment of panic, his sight slowly returned. All of the other students were gone. The great hall was empty save for an ornately dressed woman standing before him, a sapphire-studded silver band perched above her forehead. She was looking at Harry with an expression he couldn't quite place. He grasped for words before finally settling on a question.

"Who are you?"

The woman's face morphed into a smile. Harry felt the familiar sensation in his head, but focusing on it did not make it disappear. Instead, he heard a voice in his head.

"I am merely a projection of my creator, one of the founders of this place." The woman, no, illusion, swept her arms across the hall.

"How is this possible?" Harry gasped. The figure before him shook her head softly.

"A spell – a spell which embodies me with some of my creator's wisdom, and just enough of her abilities to sort students. I'm afraid I cannot answer any questions about her, or of her time. Likewise, I cannot recall other students before you."

"Cannot recall, or will not recall?"

The figure smiled more brightly.

"Cannot" the voice in his mind echoed. "to me, all of the sortings occupy the same moment in time. I cannot tell you about past students. To me, they have not happened yet. As for my creator, she granted me none of her memories or magical abilities – only the power to reason and see that which is hidden in the minds of others. No small feat, mind you – and rather clever as it deters those who would abuse my knowledge for personal gain."

Harry nodded. "Well, what do I have to do to be sorted?"

"A fine question, why do you think you have to do anything? After all, isn't a Gryffindor a Gryffindor and a Ravenclaw a Ravenclaw?"

Harry thought for a minute before responding. "I think... who we are depends on what we do. If a Ravenclaw reads a lot of books but never uses that knowledge, is she still a Ravenclaw? If she uses the information to help her friends, is she now a Hufflepuff? I would think that what we think or what we feel is meaningless when labeling a person – it is our actions and how they are seen by others that are truly important, at least when we are labeled. Maybe not for you, since you can get inside my head, but for everybody else it should be true."

"How would you have others see you?"

Harry sat silent for a moment, staring at the stone floor. During his first years at Privett Drive, the Dursleys had seen him as an unwanted burden. In the years that followed, they had simply not seen him at all. It was as if he did not exist.

"I would have them see me. I would have those around me know me, and want me to know them."

The figure before him cocked her head to the side, and gradually began to flicker.

"And how will you make them notice you?"

Harry lifted his chin. He looked around the hall - at the students that were no longer there, at the portraits that stood frozen in time. He felt something flood through his head. He verbalized thoughts he didn't knew he had with a sheer determination beyond his age. "With magic. I will train until I am stronger than them... smarter than them... better than them."

The figure smiled faintly. "How ambitious. You remind me of him, of Salazar..."

The figure before Harry disappeared, and the presence in his mind vanished. He looked around, and the great hall was full of students once again. He felt motion on top of his head, and remembered that the hat was still sitting there.

"Slytherin!"

Harry felt McGonagall remove the hat from his head, and for a moment, the Great Hall was completely silent. A few seconds later, murmurs and whispers broke out between the seated students. Even the professors seemed stunned. The old man with the long beard was the first to recover, and nodded his head in professor McGonagall's direction. She quickly looked to the list, and read off the next name.

Harry took the opportunity to walk to the Slytherin quadrant in the back-right of the chamber. The Gryffindors were seated in the front-left, and he could feel them staring at him as he moved through the big aisle bisecting the hall. Many of them were frowning, although Harry wasn't sure what they were so upset about. The bushy haired girl that had informed Harry of the enchanted ceiling, a Hermione Granger according to the hat, was chatting to Neville at the Gryffindor table. The tall boy had a glum expression on his face, and seemed to be only half paying attention. His eyes were following Harry, and the freshly minted Slytherin smiled at him when they made eye contact. Neville seemed to cheer up a bit, and gave a small wave, receiving frowns from some of the Gryffindors near him.

The Ravenclaws sitting in the front-right were also staring at Harry, but they seemed curious rather than upset by his sorting. The Hufflepuffs were actually paying attention to the next person being sorted. Most of them had clapped for Harry, but then again, they had clapped for everybody regardless of house affiliation.

After what felt like eternity, Harry reached the Slytherin quadrant. At a glance, the tables were segregated by year. He recognized some of the students that had been following McGonagall earlier; they were sitting at the front most table. While the upper class tables looked to be mixed, the first years had separated themselves by gender, with four sorted boys sitting at one end and four girls at the other. Harry sat down an unoccupied space next to a stringy looking boy. Across from him sat a blond flanked by two other boys with builds that reminded Harry of Dudley. The blond boy was about to speak, but then abruptly paused as McGonagall announced an 'Ornelle Runcorn.' A short girl with auburn hair walked up to the platform. The hat was on her head for only a second before proclaiming her a Slytherin. The Slytherins promptly clapped, followed by the Hufflepuffs and some of the Ravenclaws.

"Do you know her?" the boy sitting next to Harry asked.

"Of course!" the blond boy scoffed. "She's a Runcorn."

"What are they like?"

"Red hair, like the Weasley's. Only the Runcorn's are not blood traitors, and they have fewer children. What's it to you Nott? Do you have a crush on her?" Malfoy's satellites erupted with laughter, and the lanky boy turned a shade of crimson.

"Sod off Draco, I was just curious."

The blond boy grinned – "I'll allow it this time. Speaking of fewer children, what's the last remaining Potter doing here?"

Harry shifted in his seat as the blond boy turned to him. He shrugged as he replied.

"The hat told me to sit here, so I did."

Nott giggled, and Draco shot him a quick scowl before turning back to Harry.

"You're a Potter..."

"Yes, I know."

The blond boy leaned forward a bit. "You shouldn't be so cheeky, especially as a Potter."

Harry stared back blankly. He had gotten an impression from Neville and Snape that his family had played an important role in the wizarding world. They hadn't been very thorough in explaining what that role was, but maybe he could get Draco to talk about it. "What's so different about my family?"

"Apart from being one of oldest known magical lines in Britain and 'defeating' the dark lord? Well, there's the fact that you've been gone for the past ten years. Where were you all that time?"

Hmm, oldest magical lines in Britain - Snape and Neville hadn't mentioned anything about that. On the other hand, this was the third time Harry heard about the 'dark lord,' so beating him must have been pretty important. He shrugged. "I was living with my aunt and uncle."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Bollocks. If you had any other relatives, they would be in Nature's Nobility."

The mountain sitting to the right of Malfoy chose that moment to speak up. "Draco would know that, you know. He's read that book so many times…"

"Shut up Goyle," Draco interrupted nonchalantly, his eyes fixed on Harry. "Well, are you going to tell us the truth?"

"I am telling the truth. They're just ordinary people, so you probably wouldn't find them in any book."

Draco's eyebrows shot up. With some effort, he managed to bring them back down.

"Wait a minute, ordinary as in muggles?" Draco followed up, subconsciously leaning forward in his seat.

Harry nodded, fixing a puzzled expression on his face. It wasn't very difficult since he was actually confused. "Yeah, is there a problem?"

"No, not at all," Draco spoke quickly, twisting the ring on his left hand in what looked to Harry as a forced attempt at looking disinterested. "What were they like?"

Draco seemed too interested in his aunt and uncle, especially after hearing they were muggles. Snape had told Harry that being called a mudblood was extremely offensive to most wizards. It was obvious that Draco wanted Harry to alienate himself from his new house-mates by saying something positive about his aunt and uncle. Harry laughed internally. If only the blond boy knew the Dursleys - or how much Harry had hated them. He glowered at Draco with genuine anger. "Pretty foul actually, thanks for asking."

Draco seemed a bit disappointed by the response, but nodded sagely at Harry. "That's to be expected – our kind aren't meant to mingle with muggles, let alone live with them." He smiled. "You know what Potter, you're not that bad, and I do feel some sympathy for your plight. Tell you what, if you play it smart, I may even let you be seen in public with me occasionally."

Harry turned to the boy besides him. "Was he like this the entire day?"

Nott rolled his eyes. "He's like all the time. I've known him since we could walk, and every year it just gets worse."

Harry grinned back. Nott seemed alright at least. Surprised at the lack of retort from Malfoy, he turned to look at the blond and noticed he and his henchmen were staring at the stage. A dark skinned boy had the hat placed on his head. He sat there for a couple of moments before the hat announced "Gryffindor!"

"What!?" Malfoy sputtered. "First Potter and then this! Where am I? Am I dreaming?" He grasped blindly at the air in front of him, earning giggles from the girls sitting to their right.

Harry raised an eyebrow at the boy next to him. "Can you fill me in, Nott?"

"Sure, he's a Zabinni you see – they've been Slytherins for generations. Also, don't be like Draco - call me Theo."

"I can kind of see it though," Draco interjected rudely. "His mother's just done-in her fourth husband. Zabinni must be pretty brave if he eats or drinks anything near her, so it makes sense he's in Gryffindor."

Harry tilted his head at the blond boy. He really liked being the center of attention, that much was clear, even if it meant stepping on anybody else that spoke up. Still, at least he was transparent. He seemed to know a lot about the magical world and the people in it, so Harry reluctantly decided to be nice to him until he outlived this usefulness. He laughed at the blond boy's joke, quickly joined by the other three boys at the table, all equally eager to fit in with their new house-mates.

With the final sorting out of the way, the white-bearded wizard at the center of the head table rose to his feet and pointed his wand at his throat. "Welcome," he said, his voice easily reaching the students in the very back. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!" With that, the old wizard sat back down at the table. Soon after, silver plates and cutlery appeared in front of each student, as well as a variety of dishes along the center of each table. Harry had never seen such a bountiful array of food. There were seafood dishes, roasts, veggies, and dishes he couldn't categorize. He spotted Malfoy poking at a giant mound of green gelatin. It was too tempting... Harry couldn't resist a small jab.

"Muggle dish – it's called gelatin. Try it, it's good" he teased. The blond boy pushed the dish away.

"Between this … gelatin … and the speech, I think Dumbledore's finally gone barmy"

"Wait, that was Dumbledore?" Harry interjected. "The same Dumbledore that defeated Grindelwald?"

"No, the one that invented chocolate frogs."

Harry frowned. For all he knew, Dumbledore could have invented the chocolate frogs. This being Draco, he had a feeling he was being made fun of. "Come on, share your insight with the poor and needy."

"Ok Potter, I'll do you this favor. Frankly, I think it's embarrassing for the heir of an ancient family to be so uninformed - it makes me look bad by association." Draco rattled off Dumbledore's pedigree, and a list of his accomplishments. The vast number of slights he wove into his narrative made it clear to Harry that Draco did not like Dumbledore very much. It didn't seem like the blond boy could develop such a hatred for somebody he had never even met on his own, so he was probably just parroting what somebody else had told him. Harry nodded attentively as he listened. This was too easy.

The meal continued for another thirty minutes. Theo and Draco took turns talking about their respective summer vacations, with the later making sure to emphasize how much more awesome his had been. Harry took a break from 'socializing', and seized the chance to sample a bit of every dish on the table. He drew a look of disdain from a blond girl sitting at the table as he ripped off a leg from the roast chicken in front of her. She looked like she could be Draco's sister. He was tempted to make the suggestion, but didn't feel like getting his head torn off. By the time Dumbledore gave his closing speech about the new list of contraband and the forest being off-limits, Harry was positively stuffed. As Dumbledore and the professors dispersed from the staff table, Harry saw an older girl - with a 'P' badge pinned to her lapel - approach their table.

"Hello boys and girls!" Draco rolled his eyes. The prefect placed her hands on her hips, pouting at Draco. "Hello lords and ladies! Is that better dear?" The table next to theirs – likely fifth or sixth years judging by their height – burst into laughter as they walked by. The blond boy turned bright pink, but did his best to muster a sneer. "As I was about to say, my name is Gemma Farley. I am one of the six Slytherin prefects, and I have won the dubious honor of supervising this year's first years, which would be the lot of you." Her face swept the group, smiling in turn at each of the ten children before her.

"The first order of business will be to show you to your quarters, so follow me please." The first years stood up from their table and lined up behind the prefect. They made their way out of the great hall, and down a smaller corridor. Gemma led them through several hallways and down a few flights of winding stairs. Halfway through their journey, they ran into a fashionably dressed ghost – fashionable for a thousand years ago at least. The front of his lacy shirt was covered in ghostly blood.

"Good evening, Ms. Farley," he intoned, bowing in her direction.

"Good evening, Barron. I'd like you to meet the new first years"

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen" the Barron added, giving them a translucent smile. Draco perked up slightly. "If you ever need some advice, I can always make some time. I fact, I have all the time in the world," the ghost chuckled, waving bloody gloved hand before drifting through a nearby wall. Gemma continued walking, with the rest of the first years in tow. Eventually, they reached what Gemma described as the dungeons. She explained to the group that they would also be having their potions classes here, pointing at an empty classroom as they passed it, but cautioned about wandering too far into the depths of the winding stone halls until they learned their way around. Eventually, she stopped before a nondescript stone wall.

"This is the entry to the Slytherin common room"

"I don't see anything here," Goyle muttered.

"That's because it's hidden, silly" she replied sweetly. "The current password is 'runespoor,' and you are not to share it with anybody outside the house. In fact, don't share it with anybody at all. Any Slytherin that wishes to know the password can find it written on the arch above the inner side of the entrance. The new passwords will be written two days before a change goes into effect." With that, Gemma tapped the stone wall with her wand, saying " _runespoor_."

A segment of wall vanished before their eyes, revealing a room half the size of the great hall. On three sides, the walls were a dark gray, lined with moving tapestries of various people. On the fourth side, a crystal wall separated the room from a seeming endless expanse of black water. It was impossible to see beyond five meters, but every few seconds a fish or two swam into view. Leather sofas were scattered throughout the room. Some of them were upholstered with reptile skin, which struck Harry as wildly impractical. Two large fireplaces stood on either ends of the chamber, and the floor was hewn from dark granite.

Gemma steered the group towards a pair of doors. "This door leads to the girl's quarters, and that one to the boy's. Each of you has been assigned your own room – your trunks are already waiting inside. You are encouraged to lock your doors through magical means so long as you avoid anything particularly vicious – not that any of you firsties could pull something like that off. Also, it goes without saying that boys are not allowed in the girl's rooms and vica versa. Any questions?"

The first years shook their heads. Harry had a few he wanted to ask, but he didn't want Gemma to know how uninformed he was.

"Ok then. You may go look at your rooms. Be back here in half an hour – our head of house would like to formally welcome you." The students split into two groups and entered their respective dormitories. The inside of the boy's dormitory was a large corridor with several small ones branching off from it. The smaller corridors were lined with doors to individual rooms. Draco knew exactly which corridor belonged to the first years – as he loudly proclaimed, the Malfoy's had been Slytherins for generations. Harry found his door near the end of said corridor. He pushed it open, and was pleasantly surprised. It was a bit spartan, but there was more space than in his bedroom at the Dursley's, and the furniture looked sturdy enough.

Harry got to unpacking his meager possessions. It didn't take very long at all. Half an hour later, he made his way back to the common room. Some of the first years were already there, and the rest slowly trickled in. Harry was curious who their head of house would be, and more importantly, what he had to say. His curiosity was sated when a familiar figure stormed in.


	4. With Friends Like These

Snape approached the first years and gestured towards a group of sofas. Harry and the rest sat down. The professor began pacing in front of them, a scowl on his face. They waited in silence for an entire minute before he began to speak.

"You may be wondering why I gathered you for a speech. Many of you have met me before, so I doubt you are naive enough to expect some sort of welcome. For those of you that haven't, let me make it clear. I do not coddle my charges. You should some degree of support if you turn out to be a prospect worth cultivating. What you should not expect... is special treatment." His eyes lingered, first on Harry and then on Draco, before he continued.

"While the hat may have sorted you here, you are not yet Slytherins, for that is a badge of honor that you must earn. How, you may ask? It is rather simple – be the best. I do not care if it is in the classroom, on the quidditch pitch, or in society. To call yourself a Slytherin, you must be better than the others." He paused, staring at the group as if daring somebody to speak out of turn.

"Some of the upper years feel differently. They believe that they are Slytherins, and this places them above the rest. It is not so. Many of you believe your pedigrees make you inherently better than the other students – it is only true if you can show it to be so. Allow yourselves to slip up, and the house cup, your personal ambitions, EVERYTHING… will be gone. If that happens... the Gryffindors will not be the only ones mocking you."

With that, the man spun around and walked out of the room. The first years looked around at each other, puzzled by what had just happened. Draco spoke up first.

"I wonder what got him so worked up. He visits my father sometimes – I've never seen him so… unhinged."

"Something must have set him off," a blond-haired girl replied.

"That's right" Gemma interjected, rising from a sofa a few meters away from the group. She crossed the distance leisurely, turning to the younger girl. "What is your name?"

"Daphne."

"Daphne hit the mark" Gemma added. Draco scowled. Harry guessed he was upset at not being credited for the observation; he would further wager that Gemma did it on purpose to tease Malfoy. "Professor Snape is usually very punctual. The reason he was a few minutes late is that he had to discipline a group of sixth years that got in a fight with a group of Gryffindors in the corridors after dinner. Not only did they fight, but they managed to lose. Our Head of House is not somebody you want to agitate, so be on your best behavior – especially in potions. You can run along now."

A group of older students walked into the common room, and she walked over to join them, leaving the first years alone. The group split into two as the boys and girls returned to their respective dorms. Harry took the opportunity to retrieve a package from his belongings. For the first time since hailing the Knight Bus, he had a chance to hold his wand - true to Olivander's word, the wrapping paper had fallen off. He slipped the wand into his pocket, and headed back out into the corridor. Theo was crouching outside the door next to his, pointing his wand at the doorknob.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked.

"I'm jinxing my door. Upper classes like to play pranks on us first years during the first week."

"Wouldn't getting jinxed only make them come after you harder?"

Theo stood up with a sigh. "You're probably right. Maybe I should jinx Malfoy's door to divert attention?"

Harry shook his head. "Nah, if you did that Malfoy might come after you. How about we jinx the corridor itself? That way they won't know who did it, and they can't come after the entire first year class without getting chewed out by Snape."

Theo grinned at Harry. "That's a good idea - do you know any spells for that?"

Harry shook his head silently. He didn't know any spells at all. He had read about some of them, of course, but he didn't get to try any yet with the underage magic restrictions on his wand.

"The only area protection spell I know is this doorknob jinx, and that's only because I specifically asked my dad to teach it to me." Theo added, his forehead wrinkled.

"Why don't we ask Draco for help?"

"That's not a bad idea. If something goes wrong with the Jinx, we can blame him."

Harry chuckled. He liked Theo. It was nice to know he had a house mate that wasn't boring, but still treated Harry nicely. In all fairness, Draco wasn't boring either, but from what Harry saw at dinner, the blond boy was abrasive. The two walked over to Malfoy's door and knocked. A minute later, Draco opened the door. Harry's eyes widened when he saw the interior of the room. The walls were decked with green and silver banners, and the shelves were strewn with a large collection of books, trinkets, and baubles. Robes were scattered all over the bed, and the open chests in the middle of the room suggested that he wasn't even done unpacking yet. Draco met Harry's gaze with a slight smirk. Theo spoke first.

"Hey Draco, can you help us jinx the corridor when you finish unpacking?"

"Depends, what's in it for me?"

"Well, you won't get your stuff broken into by the upper years, for starters."

Draco scoffed, tossing his head. "My father lent me something that should take care of that problem. If anybody steps into my room without permission, they'll be in the hospital for a week. Not that anyone would even try… the Malfoy name is sufficient deterrent."

Theo mimed a talking head with his hand. "Fine, be that way. Harry and I will figure something out." Draco shrugged, and shut the door in their faces.

"That could have gone better. Why don't we check out the library for ideas?"

Harry could get behind that. Ever since Flourish and Bott's, he had been eager to find more books on magic. He had already read most of the interesting bits in his school textbooks during the week before classes, so it was time for something new.

"Lead the way."

The two boys walked back to the common room. Many of the couches were occupied by older students, but they spotted some of the first-year girls sitting near the glass wall. Theo tilted his head towards the group, and Harry nodded. Ornelle was the first to notice them approaching, and she tapped the Daphne on the shoulder. The later girl turned around, looking at them with interest.

"Well, if it isn't the boys. Where's your ringleader?"

"I hope you're not talking about Draco - he's busy looking at himself in the mirror. Have you girls done anything to protect your rooms?"

"Why, are you thinking of breaking in?" The two girls standing next to the blond burst into giggles, drawing looks from some of the older students nearby. Theo blushed, quickly shaking his head.

"No, it's just that we are probably going to get pranked by the upper years, and we are trying to find a way to protect our corridor."

"Prank? What are you talking about?"

"My dad told me the older students usually prank the first years during the first week of school."

Tracy whispered something in Daphne's ear. The blond smirked at Theo, shaking her her head. "Sounds like that only happens in the boy's dormitory. We girls have better uses for our time than pranking each other. You are going to have to find help elsewhere. Now go... we were having an important discussion before you so rudely interrupted." Daphne turned her back to Theo, tossing her hair in an impressive arc. Ornelle and Tracy followed suit.

The two boys walked towards the common room entrance. "Merlin, she's even more annoying than Draco."

"Eh, I think they're pretty neck and neck," Harry replied. They made their way out of the dungeons before pausing abruptly when they reached the grand staircase. "Theo... do you know how to **get** to the library?" Harry asked.

Theo groaned loudly, drawing looks from some of the portraits. "No… I don't."

"Excuse me gentlemen," a voice spoke up from besides them. They wheeled about. Dumbledore stood beside them, hands clasped behind his back and a smile on his bearded face. "I couldn't help overhearing your dilemma. If you would like, I could lead you to the Library. Perhaps I can have a word with Harry after?" the man questioned, looking at green-eyed boy.

Harry was puzzled. He didn't have a clue as to why the elderly wizard would want to speak with him. Regardless, he didn't think he should refuse the headmaster, so he nodded curtly.

"Ah, wonderful" the man, added. "Follow me then." He took them up three different staircases, pausing as the third wheeled about midway to align with another corridor. Harry had used the moving staircases when they were walking with Gemma to the dungeons, but he was still astonished by them. Soon, the reached a set of doors, and the headmaster gestured towards them with a wrinkly hand.

"The library is through there, Theodore." The wiry boy nodded, and slipped through the doors. He seemed eager to get away from Dumbledore - Harry made a mental note to ask why later. "Now that we are alone, would you follow me to my office?" The man turned back towards the staircase, and they backtracked their steps. A couple of staircases and a one winding corridor later, they were in front of a feathery gargoyle.

As Dumbledore approached the statue, it began to rotate and recede into the floor, revealing a helical staircase. Harry followed the professor up the staircase and to a bronze door. The professor tapped the door with his wand, and it swung open revealing a large office. Nearly every surface within was covered with books or odd apparatuses. Some of them were moving, and others were making strange noises. The wizard sat down at a table in the center of the room, and gestured Harry to the seat opposite him.

"Let me reassure you that you are not in any sort of trouble. I merely wish to welcome you to Hogwarts." The old man beamed at Harry, and the boy smiled back uneasily. It seemed odd that the headmaster would welcome him personally. "In addition, there are a couple of other matters that I would like to resolve." There it was. As Harry met Dumbledore's pale blue eyes, he felt a subtle prodding at his mind - the same feeling he had experienced with Snape and with Dumbledore himself in the great hall. It immediately dissipated, and Dumbledore's smile widened.

"Ah, it is as I expected. It seems you have a knack for occlumency. It is most rare in one as young as you, nearly unheard of. Your head of house told me that you demonstrated this skill during your trip to Diagon Alley. Have you ever studied this area of magic?"

Harry shook his head. "I am not sure what occlumency is sir. Sometimes when I look at you or professor Snape, I feel a sensation in my head. When I focus on it, it disappears."

The old man nodded. "It must be innate - you were born with the skill, or perhaps acquired it in early childhood. To be frank, it is a bit of a relief. Some occlumency books can be rather dangerous, and I am glad that you have not dabbled in the mind-arts unsupervised." The headmaster paused briefly before, pushing a bowl towards Harry. "Lemon drop?" The boy shook his head, "no thank you." The man smiled and helped himself to a piece of candy from the bowl.

"Occlumency is a skill that can be used to protect one's secrets. While most people must train years to acquire it, you are already quite proficient. Now that my curiosity has been sated, I have something to show you. But first, tell me what you know of your parents."

Harry looked down at the desk, then spoke up hesitantly. "I am not entirely sure what is true. My aunt and uncle told me they died in a car accident, but then Neville, a friend I met at Madam Malkin's, told me that they were war heroes."

Dumbledore frowned momentarily, but then smiled once more at Harry. "Neville was correct. They were indeed war heroes. In fact, they - alongside yourself - were instrumental in defeating Tom."

"Tom, sir?"

"You may have heard of him as 'he-who-must-not-be-named,' or perhaps as the 'dark lord.' In reality, he was a disenfranchised boy named Tom Riddle - one of my greatest regrets really. He saw dark magic as a way to conceal his insecurities and pursue absolute control. In doing so, he tainted his soul irreparably, and inflicted immense suffering and tragedy across all of Britain." He leaned forward towards Harry. "Your parents were heroes, my boy. When Tom attacked your home, your father fought him to the death, and your mother sacrificed her life to shield you." The man sat back in his seat, and waved his wand. An odd stone bowl drifted over from a nearby shelf, and rested on the table between Harry and the headmaster.

"This is a pensieve. It is used to store and display memories. Prior to their death, your parents were aurors fighting against Tom and his death-eaters. When the ministry was compromised, they became members of the Order of the Phoenix, a group of brave witches and wizards that stood against Tom at a time when few others dared." The man waved his wand once more, and a tiny vial of silvery fluid drifted into his hand from a nearby box.

"Your parents knew that they may die, and so they left behind a message for you - safely stored in the form of a memory. I have been keeping it safe for you." The headmaster opened the vial and poured the liquid within into the pensieve. He gently pushed the pensieve closer to Harry. "To view the memories, simply dip your face into the basin.

Harry lowered his head towards the pensieve, trembling with anticipation. As soon as his face broke past the surface of the liquid, a new room appeared before his eyes. A red-haired witch with bright green eyes sat opposite him. She smiled, but her forehead was furrowed with emotion.

"Hello Harry, if you are seeing this than it means that I have died. First, I want you to know that I am terribly sorry. Sorry, that I wasn't there to watch you grow. Sorry that I wasn't there to give you the love that you deserve." Tears trickled down the witch's face, and Harry felt his own eyes moisten. "I want you to know that your father and I had no other choice. We would have left the country - done anything to keep you safe from Voldemort. But he was looking for us … for you. If you are seeing this, it means that you are alive, and although I may have died, we succeeded in keeping you safe. For this, I am happy. I love you Harry, and I hope you live a long life full of joy."

The image faded away, and then returned. This time, a man that looked like an older version of Harry sat in the chair. He smiled sadly, staring straight at Harry, or as the boy realized, at the eyes of the person whose memory he was viewing. "Harry, my son, I am glad to see that you have made it through the war. When people ask me what I fight for, I tell them it is for the future of magical Britain. Truly, it is for your future. I want you to be able to grow up, to attend Hogwarts, to find a girl, and to have children of your own. To be happy. If you are seeing this, then we have succeeded. No matter what you do, I want you to know that I will always be proud of you." Harry reached out to the figure in front of him as the memory faded away. He raised his head from the peniseve, tears pouring down his face. Dumbledore was looking at him, a bittersweet expression on his face.

"Love. It is the power Tom knew not."

Harry placed his head in his hands. He had never seen his parents before - they were just an abstract idea. Now that he got to look at them... hear their voices... the full weight of all he had lost came crashing down upon him. A sharp pain shot through his forehead, and he saw a flash of green light. He heard a shrill voice laugh. He saw the woman from the memory, no, his mother, scream as she threw herself in front of a baby. In front of him. Another wave of pain shot through his head, and he screamed as he toppled from his chair. Dumbledore shot up from his seat.

"What's wrong, my boy?"

"I just saw something else… a green light, my mother…"

The headmaster helped Harry form the floor. "It must be a repressed memory. Those of us versed in occlumency may sometimes lock away memories that we no longer wish to see. I imagine you hid this one in your early childhood, hid it so deep that you did not even remember its existence."

Harry wiped his eyes against his sleeve. "The man that killed my parents… he is dead?"

Dumbledore walked towards a window. He paused for a few minutes before turning once more towards Harry. "Do not fall into the trap of revenge, Harry. Your parents wanted you to be happy, so do them that honor." The boy nodded slowly, looking up with determination. "I will make them proud, sir."

The headmaster nodded, beaming. "That you will, my boy."

* * *

Dumbledore made some small talk with Harry, summoning a cup of cocoa from the kitchens to soothe his nerves. When the boy left the office, he seemed decidedly less agitated than he had been before. The headmaster sat in his armchair with a heavy sigh, closed his eyes for a few minutes. He rested the tip of his wand against his temple, and withdrew a silvery strand of memory, storing it in a glass vial. The headmaster whistled a birdcall, and a fiery bird appeared in a burst of flames.

"Fawkes, could you fetch Severus please?"

The bird cooed softly, and disappeared as suddenly as it had arrived. Moments later, green flames rose in the fireplace and the potions master stepped into the room. The head master smiled at the black-haired man before him. Among all his acquaintances, Severus was one of the most punctual.

"You called, headmaster?"

"Indeed, make yourself comfortable."

The black robed figure walked briskly towards the chair that Harry had occupied earlier and sat down. "Tell me Severus, what have you noticed during your interactions with Harry?"

The potions master furrowed his eyebrows. "Regarding his aptitude, or his personality?"

"Both."

"Well, as I have already reported, he has an innate aptitude for occlumency. In addition, he invoked a strong reaction from nearly every wand he tried at Olivanders. Magically, he holds promise. Intellectually, he has the knowledge base of a muggle. I do not think he knows a single spell yet, and that places him far behind most of his peers in Slytherin."

"Ah yes," the headmaster interjected. "I noticed as much. His occlumency barriers are impervious to any indirect use of legilimency. The later point rings true as well. He did not know how his parents had died. I showed him their Order farewells, and he was entirely unprepared for the emotional impact. It seems he has been blocking out any memories of his parents throughout his childhood. Tell me, how is he as a person?

"He is not quite as arrogant as James, so that is a relief. He does seem to be taking well to his housemates - also a relief. Still, he can only keep up a facade for so long."

The headmaster spun his wand between his fingers, staring at his desk. "Yes, he is most unusual. The sorting came as quite a surprise to me - I was half afraid there would be some sort of backlash from Harry." The wizard looked up at the potions master. "Could you keep an eye on him? I would like to be updated on his progress both socially and in the classroom."

The black robed professor nodded curtly. "It is my job after all, as his head of house." The headmaster's face took on softer lines as he considered the man before him.

"I know I am asking for a great deal from you - he is not just any child. I know you had a history with his parents. If you do this, it would honor Lilly's wishes."

The potion masters face expression briefly darkened. Quickly, he assumed his standard stone-faced expression. "I will do my best. Is that all, headmaster?"

"That is all I ask, Severus. Thank you."

The black robed figure rose from his seat, and whirled towards the fireplace. Within seconds he was gone, and Dumbledore was left alone with his thoughts.

* * *

Harry's head was pounding by the time he made it back to the Slytherin dorms. He knocked on Theo's door, but the boy didn't seem to be there. He was probably still researching in the library. Harry found himself feeling indifferent. Pranks didn't seem to matter after what he had just witnessed in the Pensieve. He walked to his room, and changed out of his robes.

The night was restless. Several times, he fell asleep only to have nightmares about his mother dropping dead in front of his feet. Her screams were vivid in his mind. When somebody knocked on his door in the morning, he was eager to get away from his bed.

Theo stood outside the door, a smile on his face. It quickly morphed into a frown as he looked more closely at Harry.

"Are you alright?"

Harry waved the concerns aside. "It's nothing. Did you need something?"

The wiry boy frowned. "Yeah, I need breakfast. I thought you might like to join me?"

"Ah yes, of course." Harry walked back into his room. It felt like there was a storm inside his chest, but he didn't need the rest of the world to know that.

"Make sure you bring your bag - we have classes right after!" Theo called after him. Harry quickly changed into his school robes, hastily combing his hair in front of a mirror. He joined Theo at the door, and they walked to the great hall. Malfoy and his shadows were already there, as were Ornelle and a couple of other girls. One of them was having a heated exchange with Draco.

"Shouldn't you be sitting next to me? We are engaged after all."

The blond boy rolled his eyes at the ceiling. "Marriage contracts are non-binding, Pansy. A lot can happen between now and our graduation."

"You could show a little more enthusiasm!" the brunette scoffed.

Draco turned back to his breakfast wordlessly.

"Knock it off Pansy, you'll only scare him."

"That's easy for you to say, you don't have to worry about an engagement."

"That's the entire point, silly," the other girl pipped up. "None of us have to worry about it - including you. You should be more worried about Transfiguration. My mom told me McGonagall assigns a ton of work."

Pancy sighed, raising her palm.

"Alright, Tracey. I'll be quiet if you let me copy off you."

Tracey stuck her tongue out at her friend. Meanwhile, Malfoy looked up at Harry as he joined them at the table.

"What happened last night Potter? You look like a mess."

"Mind your own business, Draco."

The blond boy frowned. "What's the deal with everybody today?"

"Maybe if you were a little more friendly, people would want to talk to you," Theo replied.

"What did I ever do to you?"

"Well, most recently, you blew us off last night when we asked you for help with the corridor."

"That was a rhetorical question."

Theo grumbled under his breath. Soon enough, everybody was done with their breakfast. The Slytherins rose as a group, and made their way towards the grand staircase. After asking for directions from older housemates, they were able to find the transfiguration classroom with a few minutes to spare. A few Hufflepuffs were already there, and more trickled in after the Slytherins had taken a seat. A tabby cat sat on the desk staring at the students in the room. Just as the bell rang, the last pair of Hufflepuff girls walked towards the door.

"Awww, what a cute kitty." One of them reached out to pet the cat, but drew her hand back as if it had been burned when the cat transformed into a scowling professor.

"Take your seats, please."

The Hufflepuff girls were all too eager to get away from McGonagall. The class itself was fairly dry. The professor gave them a brief overview of the theory behind transfiguration, stressing the importance of intent as well as proper wand motion and incantation. She set before them the task of turning a matchstick into a needle. Nobody was able to achieve the full transfiguration, but Harry felt rather proud of his wooden needle. McGonagall had reassured him that changing wood to metal was the greatest hurdle, and transfiguring the general shape correctly meant he was on the right track.

The next class of the day was history of magic. It was taught by a ghost that introduced himself as professor Binns. The lecture was painful despite the subject of the day being Merlin - a figure that was rather interesting under any other circumstance. Harry took notes for the first 15 minutes, before abandoning all hope. He spent the rest of the lecture trying to turn his quill into metal underneath the desk. Once more, he was unsuccessful - although he could swear that it was shinier than it had been when he had started.

The final class of the day was Defense Against the Dark Arts with the Gryffindors. Some of them were already inside when the Slytherins arrived, and Harry was excited to see Neville sitting near the front. He slipped into the chair next to his friend.

"How have you been Harry?"

"Not bad. It's kind of cold down in the dungeons, but it's bearable. How's Gryffindor."

The tall boy grinned. "It's great. Our dorm is in one of the towers, so the view is awesome. It would be even better if you were there though."

"Oh well - what the lady says goes, right?"

"What lady?"

Harry scratched his head. "You know, the one that appeared when you put on the hat?"

"I didn't see anything."

"You didn't hear a voice inside your head either?"

"No. I just sat there for a few seconds, and the hat called out 'Gryffindor'."

"That's really strange. I wonder if it's different for everybody."

"Maybe." Neville replied.

They were interrupted by loud laughter as Ron and Dean walked through the door. "You should have seen the look on his face. Perfect prefect Percy looked ready to blow when his hair turned green. I'll have to ask Fred for the recipe." The two boys sat down at a table next to Harry and Neville, the redhead continuing his story.

They hushed down when a black-haired woman in a slim-tailored robe walked into the room. She appeared to be in her late twenties, and was staring at a piece of parchment. She raised her hand and looked about the classroom, her lips turning upwards into a smile as she saw the students.

"Hello there, are all of you here for Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

A chorus of heads nodded.

"Wonderful! My name is Hestia, although for propriety's sake you should call me professor Jones."

Draco raised his hand, and the professor inclined her head in his direction.

"Why weren't you at the staff table yesterday?"

"I only received news that my services would be needed early this morning. Do not worry about the specific details. I will be teaching the class until a point in time where your professor returns or a permanent replacement is found. I can assure you I'm qualified."

Draco shrugged, turning around to whisper something to Pansy.

"Now that everything's settled, why don't we start the lecture?"

Transfiguration had been interesting, but DADA was fun! Professor Jones summoned large mats from a nearby closet, and with a wave of her wand, they arranged themselves across the floor and along the walls. She then explained the knockback jinx, and taught them the incantation - flippendo. They paired off - Harry coupling with Neville - and took turns casting the jinx at each other. Harry cast the spell perfectly on the first try, but Neville was having trouble getting the jinx to work. Instead of getting knocked back, Harry felt like he was getting hit with a pillow. Professor Jones made her way from pair to pair, and eventually got to them. She immediately zeroed in on Neville, and asked to see his wand.

She ran her fingers over its surface, turning it this way and that. "This is a very pretty wand, Neville. Where did you get it?"

"It belonged to my father," the boy answered - his voice bursting with pride.

"Ah yes, Frank Longbottom. I learned about him in the academy - they say he took down several death eaters during the last war." Her voice softened, and she placed her hand on Neville's shoulder. "That is a powerful wand you have there, Neville, but I don't think it is a good fit for you. Don't take it personally, the wand chooses the wizard, and every wizard is different. Your mother was a great witch too, and you are part hers as well. Naturally, your ideal wand wouldn't be the same as that of your father."

Neville looked down at the polished stick in his hands. "Do you think that is the reason why the spell doesn't work for me?"

"I guarantee it. I would recommend buying a wand tailored to yourself as soon as possible. Frank's wand is leaking magic everywhere when you use it, and it's forcing you to overexert yourself for a lower return."

"Alright, I'll talk to Gran about this."

Professor Jones patted Neville on the head before moving on to another pair.

All too quickly, the bell rang and the fun was over. Harry walked out the door, Neville at his side. As he turned into the corridor, he bumped into Ron.

"Oi, watch it"

"Sorry," Harry muttered instinctively.

"What's the deal with you anyway - why did you end up with the junior death eaters?"

Harry paused mid step, slowly turning towards Ron.

"What did you say?"

"You know, with Malfoy, Nott, the whole lot of them. Their parents fought for You-Know-Who."

"You're so full of it."

"Don't believe me? Ask Neville."

Harry turned to the boy at his side. "Please tell me he's lying."

The tall boy shifted awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. "Well, neither of them were ever sent to Azkaban - I think - so we can't be completely certain they were death eaters."

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" Harry asked, his face growing red.

"I... I didn't want you to feel bad" his friend replied.

Harry wheeled about, walking down the corridor. Draco was a few meters ahead with Vincent and Gregory at his side, seemingly oblivious to the conversation behind him.

"Hey Malfoy, was your father a death eater?"

The blond stopped in his tracks and turned around. "That's very blunt of you Potter. One, it's none of your business, and two nobody ever proved anything. You're new to Slytherin, so I will pretend you never asked that."

"Voldemort killed my parents, you git."

"I don't see what that has to do with me. Maybe they should have been more careful."

Harry wrenched his wand from his pocket, raising it at Draco.

"Whoa, wha…"

"Flipendo!"

The blond boy was thrown onto his back. He quickly drew his own wand and pointed it at Harry.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

Harry felt his limbs go rigid. By some miracle, he managed to stay on his feet. Regardless, he found himself unable to move. The blond boy got up, dusting off his robes. He slowly walked towards Harry, a smirk on his face.

"You should be careful who you offend, Potter. You wouldn't want to repeat past mistakes."

Harry felt an anger build up in his chest, the blood rushing to his head until all he could hear was his own heartbeat. All of the sorrow he had been carrying since the previous night tempered the anger into white hot rage. He stared at Draco's eyes, but all he could see was the memory of Voldemort casting the killing curse on his mother. Seconds later he heard screaming. To his surprise, it was coming from Draco. The blond boy fell to the ground, clutching at his head. Vincent rushed forward, doing his best to raise Draco up by his armpits. Pansy joined Vincent at Draco's side, her shrieks adding to the cacophony, while Gregory stared at Harry slack jawed.

Harry himself felt his limbs relax as the jinx on him faded away. He was suddenly aware of whispers coming from behind him. He turned around, and saw fear in the eyes of Ron, Neville, and the other students gathered in a rough semicircle. Professor Jones rushed out of the classroom, drawn by the scream. She looked at Harry, at his wand, at Draco, and then back at Harry. Her lips took on a grim line.

"Boys, I trust you can assist Draco to the hospital wing. Harry, please follow me."


	5. Who Needs Enemies?

"What happened out there?"

"I don't know…" Harry replied. After the fight outside the DADA classroom, Professor Jones had decided to take him to his head of house. Most students still didn't know who she was, so they got a lot of looks as they made their way down the grand staircase.

"Let's start from the beginning. How did he end up on the floor?"

"Like I said, I don't have the faintest idea. Draco cast something at me, and I couldn't move. Suddenly, he dropped to the floor screaming."

"That's very odd. What were you two fighting over?"

Harry felt a bit awkward talking with professor Jones. She was far more casual than any of the professors he had met so far. Maybe it was because this was the first class she had taught. If so, he felt bad for creating a problem for her on her very first day.

"Draco said that my parents had made a mistake in fighting Voldemort… after that, I cast the knockback jinx on him. It worked, but then he got up and hit me with something that made my limbs lock up. He had the nerve to insult my parents again, and smile at me as he did it. I'm not sure what exactly happened after that…"

Professor Jones frowned. "That is very strange. I would say accidental magic, but that seems to be the catch-all whenever we can't explain something. Maybe Severus can shed some light on the matter. After all, he has been teaching here for a decade, and it's only my first day." She turned to Harry with a crooked smile. "Relax, I'm sure Draco will be fine. Don't tell anybody I said this, but I kind of wanted to jinx him myself after just one class."

They reached the door to the potions classroom. By now, the corridors were largely empty. The professor knocked on the door, and they waited. After a couple of minutes, a scowling Snape opened the door. His eyes slightly widened when he saw professor Jones, but he seemed to relax when he saw Harry besides her.

"I take it Potter has misbehaved?"

"I only caught the end of it, it seems he had an altercation with Draco Malfoy. I sent the boy to the hospital, but he did not appear physically injured. I thought you might know what to do…" she replied, speaking faster and faster. Professor Snape seemed oddly uncomfortable. All the stranger since Harry rarely saw the man express emotion of any sort.

"I'll take it from here then." There was a brief awkward moment as they stood at the door. "Bye, Jones," Snape added pointedly. The witch gave a small start and then hightailed it down the corridor. Snape pinched his forehead for a moment, and then muttered in a low tone. "How is it that you have doubled my workload before even stepping foot in my classroom, Potter?"

Harry tried to reply, but the man had already started walking down the corridor. He paused briefly, turning to look at Harry. "Follow me, Potter." Harry hurriedly joined the potions master, having to walk at a near jog just to keep up with the man's long stride.

"Um professor, where are we going?"

"I hear Filtch got some new torture implements over the summer that he wants to try out."

Harry paled.

"Relax, Potter. I'm taking you up to the hospital wing. You are going to make things right with Draco. While we are walking, you can explain to me exactly what happened, starting with why you felt it was a good idea to assault the son of a Hogwarts Governor."

Son of a Hogwarts governor? Harry hadn't know that. Still, it probably wouldn't have changed anything. Draco shouldn't have said what he did about his parents.

"I just found out his father had fought for the dark lord! He then told me that my parents were careless and got themselves killed."

"Well, he's not entirely wrong Potter." The man quickly raised his hand as Harry opened his mouth to respond. "Your parents used a charm that concealed their location from the dark lord. For the charm to work, the location must be entrusted to a secret-keeper. They picked the wrong man for the job. I doubt Draco knows this - he was probably just trying to get a rise out of you. In typical Potter form, you fell for it." Harry fell silent as he thought about what the professor had said. Maybe his parents had made a mistake. That still didn't make it OK for Draco to criticize them. They had died for Harry!

"Tell me about how Draco ended up on the ground."

Harry quickly snapped out of his train of thought. He told the professor about casting the knockback jinx, Draco's counter, and how the boy had smirked at him after insulting his parents for the second time.

"So you say you looked Draco in the eyes as you were thinking of the memory of your mother's death, and the boy fell to the floor clutching at his head and screaming?"

"That sounds right professor. I swear, I didn't cast anything at him."

The professor stopped and stared at Harry for a moment. "You have some innate ability in occlumency. It is not inconceivable that under severe emotional trauma you were able to carry out a legilimency attack."

"What do you mean, sir?"

The man resumed walking, talking as he looked straight ahead. "Legilimency is the ability to enter the mind of another. Of course, it is much more nuanced than that. Most people need to cast a spell to be able to perform legilimency. Wandless, wordless legilimency is generally weaker and more difficult to execute. In addition, even a novice in occlumency - which Draco has likely been taught as Lucius' heir - should be able to defeat untrained, accidental legilimency. Not to even mention the fact that accidental magic is generally chaotic, random, and decidedly unfocused - completely at odds with the mind arts. To further add to the implausibility of the situation, it seems that you placed an emotion or a sensation into Draco's head rather than merely reading his thoughts."

"Is that even possible?" Harry gasped.

"Yes. The dark lord himself was rather fond of this particular trick."

Harry's heart sunk. He did not want to be anything like the monster that had murdered his parents. Even if Draco had said something foul, it didn't excuse Harry's own behavior.

"What are we going to do now, professor"

The man sneered. "So it's 'we' now, Potter? First, I am going to find out exactly what Draco remembers, and then get him to keep quiet. Afterwards, you are going to have detention with me every Saturday evening for the rest of the term. In addition to blocking intrusions, occlumency can help keep emotions in check. It seems like you are innately skilled in the first, but completely hopeless in the second category. I will train you in proper occlumency. If you learn how to keep calm under provocation, it will make my life a lot easier since I would need to spend far less time cleaning up your messes."

"I'm sorry professor, and the lessons bit sounds awesome. Will you also be teaching me legilimency."

"Ha! Dream on, Potter. As if I need an eleven-year-old running around breaking into other children's minds. No, we are going to stick to occlumency, and if I hear a word about you attempting legilimency on a student, I will teach you the meaning of regret."

The remainder of the walk to the hospital wing passed in silence. Harry was excited about the upcoming occlumency training, and didn't want to say anything that might make Snape reconsider his words. It wasn't until they reached the doors that he realized he would have to face Draco, and the nerves sent his stomach churning. The potions master opened the door, and walked into the wing. A middle-aged woman dressed in white robes greeted them, pointing out the bed that housed Draco. The blond boy was sitting up propped against a pillow, and reading a book. Professor Snape raised his hand, and Harry stopped walking. The potions master approached Draco, and spoke with him for a few moments in hushed tones. Seemingly satisfied, he walked back to Harry.

"Go ahead, Potter. I might as well do something of use and see what potions need to be restocked. Make up with Draco. You're going to have to live with him for the next seven years." Harry nodded, and walked towards Draco's bed. The boy was deeply absorbed in the text once more, but looked up as Harry crossed the final couple of meters.

"Hey Draco" he said awkwardly.

"Hi Harry," the boy replied. It felt odd. Harry realized that it was the first time Draco had used his first name.

"Are you feeling ok?"

"Yeah, I feel fine. Madam Pomfrey is insisting I stay here for a few hours for 'observation,' but I'm sure I could leave right now." The boy cracked his characteristic smirk. It looked different to Harry, almost unnatural. It took him a second to realize why - for the first time, it didn't have a mocking undertone. He felt some sympathy for Draco. He didn't pick his father, so was it really fair for Harry to hold his father's crimes against Draco?

"I'm sorry about the flippendo… and the other thing. To be honest, I'm not sure what I did. I wasn't trying to hurt you … I was just so angry…"

The blond boy shook his head. "It was my fault. I provoked you. You're probably right about my father. It's kind of an open secret he was involved with the dark lord. That being said, he **is** my father. I **do** have to defend him if he is publicly attacked."

Harry nodded his head. This didn't feel right. Draco didn't seem like the type of person to admit he was wrong. He couldn't help but wonder what caused this change of attitude.

The boy raised his head until his eyes met Harry's. To Draco's credit, he seemed to hear the unspoken question. "When I looked in your eyes - after I had petrified you - I saw something. I saw a hooded man cast the killing curse at a screaming woman. Then he cast it at me. I didn't know what was going on at first, all I could process was the pain in my head. But after the pain faded away, I remembered something. The woman… she screamed 'Not Harry.' That was your mother, wasn't it?"

Harry nodded slowly. Draco paused for a moment, his voice trembling when he spoke once more.

"It felt so real, like I was really there. If the Dark Lord… could do something like that…"

Harry forced a smile. "Don't worry about it, Draco."

"I told Pansy and the rest that I don't remember anything about what happened. It's probably for the best. They are probably going to expect me to try to get back at you somehow, so I might have to mess with you in some way - maybe at potions tomorrow?"

"Spoken like a true Slytherin," Harry rolled his eyes.

"Would you expect any less of me?"

The rest of the day was calm in comparison. On the way back to his room, Harry had gotten some glares from the other first year Slytherins sitting in the common room. In light of that, he had elected to spend most of the evening doing his transfiguration essay in the library. McGonagall wanted a foot on the importance of wand motion for next week. It was a very broad topic, so it wasn't difficult to find material to write about. When he made his way back to the dungeons a few hours later, he noticed that the glares had changed to sly smiles. It seemed like Draco had smoothed things over after he got out, and had probably promised some juicy form of payback.

Breakfast the next day was awkward. Theo and Draco were at their usual banter, but Gregory and Vincent couldn't stop giggling whenever they looked at Harry. He made a mental note never to trust them with a secret. The girls seemed to be split into two camps. Pansy was shooting Harry icy glares throughout the meal, but Ornelle was very warm with him. The rest fell somewhere in between. The Slytherins walked to class together as they had the previous day, but Harry made sure to stay at the back of the group so that nobody could draw on him undetected.

He was actually relieved when he walked into potions. It was another class shared with the Gryffindors, so Harry took a seat next to Neville. The boy looked downtrodden. Harry flashed him a smile as he arranged his supplies on the table, and Neville seemed to cheer up slightly.

"Hi Nev."

"Hey Harry… I just want to say that I'm sorry for not telling you about Slytherin's reputation earlier. It was really cowardly of me to keep that from you just to avoid upsetting you."

Harry clapped the boy on the back. "Don't worry about it. I totally overreacted, so it seems like you prediction was accurate. Anyway, it's all in the past. Let's worry about the future… namely that dark cloud coming our way."

Professor Snape rushed into the room, shutting the blinds with rapid flicks of his wand. He read off the list of names, and then launched into a dramatic speech about potion making. It probably would have been more impressive if Harry hadn't already spent hours with the man. Nonetheless, he was caught by surprise when the potions master asked him several questions. Harry had read through the firs few chapters of his potions textbook the week before school started, so he was able to answer two out of three correctly. That seemed good enough for Snape, and he quickly launched into the directions for the boil-curing potion they would be making that class.

The recipe was relatively simple. Harry paired up with Neville, and the tall boy's experience with magical plants came in handy as they were preparing the ingredients. Everything was going fine, until Harry felt somebody slap him on the back. Hard. He whirled around, and saw Vincent sitting at the table behind him, a smile on his face.

"What was that?"

"I saw a spider on your back, so I brushed it off."

"Why don't you mind your potion?" Neville asked from besides him.

"We could ask you the same thing" Vincent replied, breaking into full out laughter.

Harry felt a shiver run up his spine, and whirled around to look at their cauldron. Red smoke was pouring out of the top. He quickly shouted for Snape, but the potion boiled over a split second later. The viscous liquid solidified wherever it made contact with the table, leaving behind a sticky mess. The potions master slowly walked over and levitated the cauldron off of the flame, setting it on the stone floor.

"Idiots. You're supposed to add the porcupine quills **after** taking the cauldron off the fire. Longbottom, Potter, detention this evening." The man walked a few steps before turning back around. "Potter, make that two back to back detentions for you since this is the second consecutive day you've caused trouble." Harry saw Draco high-five Vincent from the corner of his eye. He glanced at the blond boy, and received a subtle wink. This was probably mild as far as revenge went, so Harry didn't mind too much.

His detention with Neville was spent scrubbing the table they had fouled when their cauldron boiled over, set to a steady stream of ridicule from professor Snape. When the tall boy left and Harry stayed behind, the potions master dropped the act.

"You really should be grateful, you know. The Malfoys typically aren't so quick to forgive."

"I think Draco may have had a change of heart," Harry replied.

"I doubt it. Speaking of doubt, it is time to start your occlumency training - not that you are likely to master such an art."

Harry grinned - this was more like it.

The occlumency lesson was quite strange. At first, Snape had cast the legilimency spell on Harry several times with no success. Direct legilimency was a new experience for Harry - instead of the faint sensation he had felt with Snape or Dumbledore's previous attempts, he now felt a much stronger pressure in his head. It felt very similar to when he had dived to the bottom of the pool the one time the Dursleys had decided to take him along to the waterpark for Dudley's birthday. Focusing on the pressure dispersed it much like with passive legilimency. The professor was baffled - according to him, direct legilimency was much more powerful than passive legilimency, and Harry's natural talent for occlumency should not have been enough to negate a direct attack.

After a couple of minutes of pacing, the potions master had decided to have Harry work on controlling his temperament in order to prevent further legilimency outbursts. The techniques he taught were similar to those used in traditional occlumency, but with less of a focus on building mental barriers and more of a focus on clearing his mind. This proved to be more challenging for Harry - he actually had to work at it unlike repelling legilimency. Snape seemed to enjoy that not everything came easily to Harry, and assigned weekly 'detentions' for the rest of the term.

* * *

The next day was far less exciting. The Slytherins had herbology with the Ravenclaws, and most of the class was spent harvesting leaves from an odd purple plant. Charms with the Hufflepuffs was much more interesting. The professor was unusually short - he had to stand on top of a footstool to address the class. His facial features were reminiscent of the goblins Harry had seen at Gringotts, but far less ugly. The subject of the day was the levitation spell, and Harry found himself among the first to levitate his feather. This earned him a point for Slytherin from Professor Flitwick.

The atmosphere back in the Slytherin common room had calmed down since his fight with Draco. Theo didn't seem to care - he was far too busy trying to set up a trap for any would-be pranksters. Vincent and Greggory still seemed a bit sore, but Harry doubted they would do anything on their own initiative. The girls were doing their own thing, whatever that was, although Pansy still scowled at him anytime they made eye contact. On the whole, Harry's housemates were neither friendly nor mean to him.

Most of the other first year Slytherins had known each other since childhood, and seemed to prefer their own company. At the same time, Harry hadn't given them any substantial reason to hate him. If anything, his fight with Draco had acted as a deterrent since they had seen him put the blond boy on his back through what seemed like wandless magic. The older students were preoccupied with their own lives, and most didn't take the time to talk to first-years. However, this didn't stop them from claiming most of the common room for themselves. Some of them were rather territorial. Rather than risk sitting down in the wrong person's couch, Harry chose to spend most of his evenings in the library.

Ever since his first experience with magical books at Flourish and Blott's, he had been eager to learn more about spells, potions, magical artifacts… everything really. The Hogwarts library was the perfect place to do this. It was giant, bigger even than the showroom at Flourish and Blott's. Some of the books were in other languages or too complicated for him to understand, but the ones that he could understand were quite interesting. At the end of the day, he still preferred the assigned textbooks for most of his classes - they were geared towards beginners such as himself, and were directly relevant to his classes. It was just as well, because the professors seemed to have some kind of bet on who could assign the most homework. The study area of the library was usually populated with students hastily scratching out essays with their quills. He didn't recognize too many first years among them, although the bushy haired girl from Gryffindor - Hermione - was there practically all the time. One night, Harry sat next to her on impulse. She looked up at him with a scowl.

"What do you want?"

"Umm… to do my homework?"

Hermione tilted her head. "Are you sure you're not here to make fun of me?"

"I'm positive."

"Fine." She turned back to her essay with a shrug and Harry dived back into his textbook. He was hoping he would find something to help him complete the matchstick to needle transfiguration, but it looked like it was just a matter of practice. He pulled out his wand and one of the matchsticks he had taken from transfiguration and got to work. Once again, he managed to make the matchstick assume the shape of the needle, but had little luck changing the wood to metal. After a moment of repeatedly casting, he noticed that Hermione was watching.

"What are you thinking when you cast the spell?" the witch asked.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Thinking? The incantation - what else?"

She shook her head rapidly, her hair bouncing against her shoulders. "You should be imagining the needle. Focus on the metallic color, picture the surface of the needle."

Harry shrugged, and did as she asked. To his surprise, the needle changed to a silvery color. He picked it up, and the surface felt smooth and cool like metal. He flexed the needle, and it shattered between his fingers.

"Ouch!"

"Too brittle - still needs some work."

"I see that now," Harry replied hastily, pressing his pricked finger against his robe. "Where did you learn that anyway?"

"It's in the first few chapters of our transfiguration textbook." Harry gave her a blank look. "You know… the ones on magical theory."

"Oh. I skipped those to get to the spells and wand motion."

The brown-haired witch raised her chin. "You shouldn't do that. Magical theory is really important, even more so than the spells themselves."

Harry looked at her sideways. "Wouldn't the theory be useless without any spells to cast."

"No. If you know the spells but not theory, you can hurt yourself like you just did. If you don't know the spells but know the theory, at worst nothing will happen." With that, she grinned at Harry smugly.

Harry scowled back. Hermione had a bit of an attitude. What she was saying was factually correct, but sometimes how you said things mattered more to people.

"You always have to be right, don't you?"

The girl scoffed. "Now you sound like Ron."

"Maybe he has a point," Harry muttered, turning back to his matchstick.

* * *

Breakfast the next day was all about quidditch. Draco and Theo wouldn't stop talking about their favorite teams, last year's world cup, and really anything related to the sport. Even Vincent and Gregory had something to say - apparently, they wanted to be beaters on the Slytherin team. Harry didn't know what a beater did, but the title suited the two boys. Soon, he found out what had gotten the table so excited. They would be having their first flying lessons today - with the Gryffindors no less. Harry wasn't sure how he felt about it. Brooms didn't seem like they could be very comfortable or stable to fly on. He would get a chance to talk to Neville, which was also good, but Hermione would be there as well, which was probably bad. He was grateful for her tips the previous night, he had managed the full transfiguration after only fifteen minutes once he knew what to do. However, it looked like he had opened the floodgates because she wouldn't stop talking about all of her other classes and every single book she had read on magic. He felt kind of bad for her - it didn't seem like she had anybody else to talk to. At the same time, Harry didn't think he could handle being around her for any extended period of time.

As was custom, the Slytherins walked together to class. It would take place on the grounds just outside the castle, and Madam Hooch was already there when they arrived, along with twenty brooms lined up on either side of her. She was slender, and her hair was closely cropped. Her nose was slightly askew, no doubt from a flying accident. That thought didn't comfort Harry, but Theo had said that she used to be a competitive quidditch player, so he figured he figured they were in good hands. The Gryffindors trickled in in pairs and small groups. Ron, Dean, and Seamus showed up together to nobody's surprise. Neville walked in with Hermione.

When the bell struck, Hooch the two houses line up across from each other, each student next to a broom. They were to command the broom 'up.' Harry eyed his suspiciously. It seemed old and shoddy, even for a broom. Nonetheless, he gave it a try and was pleasantly surprised when it shot into his hand. A few people were not so lucky. Hermione was barking orders at her still stationary broom in increasingly frustrated tones, while Vincent looked like he was about to pop a blood vessel in his forhead. Hooch gave individual advice to each of the stragglers, and after ten minutes everybody was able to at least mount their broom. Hermione did a little more than that. As soon as professor Hooch had walked away, the girl's broom began to drift diagonally towards the castle.

"Down! DOWN!" she yelled.

Madam Hooch swore and mounted her own broom in a fluid motion. "Stay calm," she yelled after the girl. Her words seemed to have the opposite effect, because Hermione quickly picked up speed, and her broom started bobbing up and down rapidly. Before Madam Hooch could reach her, Hermione's broom flew down into a nosedive. It crossed a distance of about a dozen meters in less than a second, headed straight for the ground. It didn't look like Madam Hooch could possible make it there in time. Harry willed his broom forward, and it propelled himself towards Hermione. He managed to dive down just under her, and break most of the momentum in her broom. They were just barely off the ground when he made contact with her side, and they rolled over the grass in an uncontrolled tumble. Madam Hooch drifted down next to the pair, deftly stepping off her broom. Hermione sat up, but didn't make any motion to stand. Her foot was twisted at an odd angle, and she began to wail.

"Settle down everybody, there's nothing to see here." Madam Hooch cast some sort of spell at Hermione's foot and levitated the crying girl. "Nice job, Potter. I'm tempted to give you a detention for trying a stunt like that, but you may have saved her life so I'll give you a pass this time." She turned towards the rest of the class, adding "don't do anything you wouldn't do if I was here," along with her most intimidating look, and started walking back to the castle with Hermione at her side. Madam Hooch had barely made it out of sight when Malfoy mounted his broom and hovered into the air. Ron and his friends quickly followed suit, apparently not wanting to be out-braved by a Slytherin.

"You sure you should be doing this?"

"Come up and join me" the blond boy replied. "She said not to do anything we wouldn't do if she was here, and I'm pretty sure we were going to practice flying today."

"I don't think that's how she meant it, but who am I to complain" Theo answered with a smirk before kicking off the ground.

Harry got up and brushed his clothes clean. He felt a bit of pain in his shoulder where he had made first contact with the ground, but the rolling seemed to have absorbed most of the impact. He gave a shrug and followed his house mates into the sky. The broom felt alive beneath him. He only had to will it to turn a certain way, and it would immediately follow his wishes. Apparently, his dive to save Hermione hadn't been a fluke. Soon, he was soaring in circles above the rest of the class, the air streaming through his hair. Theo and Draco had risen even higher, and were chasing each other on their brooms. Within minutes, virtually the entire class had joined in. Some, like Ron and Milicent, looked just as comfortable in the sky as Draco and Theo. Others, like Neville, looked a bit more shaky. Harry rose further up into the sky and lifted his hands from his broomstick. He closed his eyes emptied his mind as he had practiced with Snape. He couldn't remember feeling this peaceful ever. A short while later, his bliss was interrupted by Madam Hooch's arrival.

"What were you all thinking! Come down from there at once!" His classmates drifted down and landed on the grass with varying degrees of grace. The professor turned her gaze towards Harry. "I've thought about your stunt a little longer. Five points from Slytherin for recklessness, and ten points to Slytherin for saving your classmate." Some of his house mates gave a cheer, but quickly fell silent when Madam Hooch turned around to face them. "That's not all. A point each from everybody - Gryffindor and Slytherin - for disobeying my instructions while I was gone."

Malfoy started to speak, but Hooch quickly cut him off. "Would you care to try for two points?" He quickly shut up after that. The rest of the lesson wasn't as exciting as it had been when Hooch wasn't there, but the professor did have a lot of usefully information to share. Harry learned that brooms operated by intent - Hermione's panicked desire to return to the ground was probably what had made her plummet into the ground. He also found out that quidditch tryouts would be the following week, but first and second years were not allowed to participate due to the dangers of the sport and sheer physicality required to keep up with older students.

After flying, the Slytherins had their first astronomy lesson. It took place in one of the towers and fairly late in the evening for obvious reasons. Harry wasn't terribly excited about it - he didn't feel like gazing at the stars when there were so many interesting things to look at down in Hogwarts. Regardless, he put up with the lesson and was glad when it was over. The first years made their way to the common room, which was mostly empty save for a few older students lounging by one of the fires. One of them made a beckoning motion. Harry looked around and then back at the older boy, pointing a finger at his own chest. He received a nod, and so he made his way over to the fireplace after exchanging confused looks with Draco and Theo. As he got closer, he could see a "C" badge on the boy's chest.

Harry stopped as he reached the group. Apart from the boy that had invited him over, there were two other boys and a girl. They were all both taller and bulkier than Harry, and were looking at him as if trying to size him up. After a few seconds of waiting, Harry realized that he was expected to speak first.

"I've never seen that badge before," he said, pointing at the silver "C" pinned onto the leader's shirt. The boy in question grinned, rubbing the badge with his shirt sleeve.

"This badge means I'm quidditch captain."

"Well, what do you want with me?"

The older boy shrugged. "Nothing at the moment. We heard about the incident at the Quidditch lesson this morning, apparently you saved some Gryffindor girl. Why'd you do that?"

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Umm, because she was about to become a Gryffindor pancake? Also, I wanted to test how quickly I could move."

The Slytherin Captain shared a look with this friends, and turned back to Harry. "I hear you moved pretty fast. Tell you what, come to the quidditch tryouts next week and we'll see if you can pull that dive off a second time."

Harry was puzzled. "Aren't first years banned from trying out?"

The older boy shook his head. "Don't think of it as tryout then. You're just going for a walk on the quidditch pitch, and it just happens to coincide with our tryouts. Between me and you, if you do well enough I may be able to convince Snape to let you on the team. On the other hand, if your skills are overblown, we'll still get some entertainment value out of watching you embarrass yourself."

"Gee, thanks."

"Don't mention it. Now run along to your friends. They're having a hard time pretending not to eavesdrop."

Harry turned around and joined Theo and Draco on the couches at the far side of the room. "What was that about?" Malfoy questioned with faked nonchalance.

"Nothing really, the quidditch captain just wanted to invite me to the tryouts next week."

Malfoy's eyes bulged for a second, but he quickly composed himself. "Flint must really be scraping the barrel if he's going after first years. I hear last year's seeker graduated, so I guess it make sense."

"How do you know he'll want me for seeker?"

"What else could you possible do with your build?" Theo interjected. "You can't be a chaser, you'll get pushed or kicked off your broom on every play. Beater is out of the question, even Vincent and Gregory aren't big enough to edge out the guys on the team at the moment. Keeper's a possibility if you're fast enough, but they prefer somebody with longer reach for that. Seeker's the only option. Your small size might actually help you with maneuverability, not to mention speed. Besides, you've already shown you're reckless enough to chase down a snitch."

"You've really thought this through…" Harry replied.

"Hey, what are friends for?"

"Oh, so we're friends now?"

"Yeah, I've got to hedge my bets in case you actually pull this off. But really, I've been busy the past couple of days working on the trap for the dorms."

"Did you figure anything out?"

"Yeah, I figured out that it's way beyond what any of us can do at this point, unless you are an expert in runes and not just in quidditch."

Harry shook his head and made a motion to get up. "I think I'm going to get some sleep. We've got transfiguration again tomorrow morning."

Draco and Theo got up after him. They made their way to the boy's dorm and started walking towards the first-year corridor. They turned the corner, and a sea of red and gold came into view. The walls outside their doors were painted with Gryffindor banners. Vincent's door was open, and the boy's head popped outside the frame.

"The inside looks like that too."

Draco cursed besides him, and Harry opened his own door. True to Vincent's word, the walls, floor, and even ceiling were covered with red and gold paint. He heard Theo speak up behind him.

"Well, at least we won't have to worry about getting pranked anymore."

"I don't suppose you would know any cleaning spells?"

The lanky boy shook his head with a sigh.

* * *

Dumbledore looked at the growing stack of correspondence on his table. He massaged his temples with his fingertips. The past few days had been tiring, and it wasn't just that he was getting old - although that certainly played a role. The first week of school was always hectic, but this time there was additional work. Mrs. Zabini - or was it Ms. Zabini now, he could never keep track - had decided to pull her son out of Hogwarts after the boy had been sorted into Gryffindor. It seemed extremely petty to Albus, but he knew better than to argue when there was no hope of changing her mind. Minerva and most of the other staff were busy with the first week of classes, so he took it upon himself to recruit a new student for Gryffindor. After decades of experience, he could generally tell where a student would fit in best, so finding one that would do well in Gryffindor wasn't a problem. Still, Dumbledore had to take the time to drop Blaise off at Durmstrang as his mother had requested, and then go down the list of potential students until he found one that hadn't already started school somewhere else, or was willing to transfer on short notice.

That wasn't even the worst part of the week. When he hadn't seen Quirrel at the sorting feast, he had just assumed the man was running late. It wasn't until the following morning Dumbledore had realized that the defense professor wouldn't be showing up at all. He had been forced to dispatch Snape to contact several candidates for a substitute. Hestia was not his first-choice due to her young age and relative inexperience, but it looked like she was all that was available at the moment. He had toyed with the idea of inviting Alastor to teach, but his skills were more valuable elsewhere. Besides, he did not want the battle-scarred auror terrifying half the student body.

With a sigh, Albus turned back to the letter in front of him. It was written in a hurried scribble, and signed by Quirrel's hand. More worryingly, the parchment had traces of dark magic on it. The magical signature felt familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. It felt broken, only a piece of something he had felt before. According to the contents of the letter, Quirrel had ran into some issues with his research into Vampires, and would be staying in Albania for the next couple of years.

It sounded very odd to Albus. For starters, years seemed like an awfully long commitment, and the letter itself had come on very short notice. He had never known Quirrel to be the impulsive sort. Ambitious, maybe, but certainly not impulsive. He placed the letter within a larger envelope, and magically sealed it. Albus wasn't sure what the magical residue was, so he didn't want to risk it contaminating the rest of his office. He would work on identifying it over the weekend when he had some more time to think.


	6. Testing the Waters

It was Saturday morning, and unusually warm for early September. Not that it mattered to Severus Snape - he was in his office grading the fifth year potions samples from the previous day's class. A row of vials sat on the desk before him. They all contained a liquid in various yellow hues. The potions master picked up a vial and held it up in front of his eyes. The color was the correct hue of yellow, and tilting the vial revealed the liquid to be of the appropriate viscosity. Upon directing a beam of light from his wand, he saw small particles drifting in the liquid. Snape set down the vial in the rack, muttering "failure to filter the precipitate, how unfortunate." He leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms behind his back. He was about halfway done with the grading, and only two students had produced a sample of sufficient quality. Evaluating such mediocrity was tortuous, but it was better to get it out of the way now so that it would not spoil the rest of his weekend.

He was jarred from his thoughts when he heard a knock on the door. The silent alarm had not notified him of the arrival, so it was probably not a student. The school staff were keyed into the alarm, but they could call in via floo, so it was likely not one of them either. His curiosity piqued, Snape stood up from the chair and briskly walked towards the door. Upon opening it with a flick of his wand, his gaze fell upon the svelte figure of the new defense professor. She was wearing an indigo robe that hugged her hips. Her hair cascaded down around her shoulders, and framed a modest but nonetheless captivating neckline. Snape's eyes rose up to her face. She was staring back at him with a raised eyebrow. He coughed, and rushed out some words.

"What are you doing in the dungeons, Jones?"

The woman crossed her arms and smirked. "I am here to see you, Severus. Good morning!"

Severus called forth his occulumency training and composed his expression. "What do you want from me?"

"I was told you have an interest in defense against the dark arts, so I thought I would have you check over my lesson plans. And call me Hestia please"

"Who told you that?" Snape questioned.

"Oh you know, people talk. May I come in?" She peered into the office around the potion master's shoulder. He sighed and stepped aside. She walked past him, and Snape did his best not to let his gaze wander as he followed behind.

"It's quite gloomy in here, isn't it?" She waved her wand, and the curtains covering the small windows were swept aside. Snape stepped in after her and swept his wand, closing the curtains back over the windows.

"Lots of light-sensitive ingredients in here," he intoned coolly, gesturing at the shelves off to the side of his desk. He waited a moment, but it didn't seem like she was going to leave. He sighed wearily. "I suppose you'd better have a seat." He flicked his wand and a chair slid towards the desk.

"Aww, thank you." Hestia sat down in the chair, her eyes still wandering over the various objects in the office. Snape joined her in his seat on the opposite side of the desk.

"What are these," she questioned, picking up one of the vials.

"An attempt at a cleaning solution from the fifth year Hufflepuffs. Some of it is even usable." Hestia uncorked the vial and took a whiff before quickly putting the cork back in.

"Doesn't smell very fresh," she replied with a grimace.

"That's the sulfur. This concoction is not supposed to smell good. What it does well is remove magical graffiti."

Hestia looked up at Severus with a puzzled expression. "I don't remember making this when I was a fifth year." The potions master shrugged casually.

"Somebody plastered the walls in the Slytherin first year boy's dorm with Gryffindor colors. Whoever did it was at least somewhat capable as it's resistant to basic cleaning spells. I thought I'd let my students brew something practical. Clearly, I hoped for too much."

"It's nice to see you care about your firsties, Sev!"

"I care **only** as much as is contractually obligated," the man sneered. "And if you must, call me Severus"

"OK, Severus," Hestia pouted. "Now, would you like to look at my lesson plans?"

"Not particularly, but I'll do it anyway." In reality, Snape was excited to move past the current topic. He reached out, and Hestia placed a scroll in his hand. He undid the ribbon keeping it closed, and spread the parchment over an empty portion of the table. After taking a few minutes to skim over the chart, he looked up at the woman before him.

"Very ambitious." He turned back to the parchment. "You do realize the dueling club was shut down for a good reason."

"Yes, but that was a decade ago! I will be taking the proper safety precautions, I assure you."

Snape rolled up the scroll and deftly tied the ribbon back on. "If you follow through with this dueling club, the lessons you have planned out will go along nicely. How did you persuade our headmaster to agree to your idea?"

Hestia bit her lip. "Well, I haven't exactly spoken to him about it yet. I was hoping for your advice on that."

Snape burst out laughing. "Do it at next week's staff meeting, please! I want to see everybody's reaction." He saw her face turn red, and he laboriously settled back into his occulumency state. The witch snatched the scroll from his desk and rose to her feet.

"You know, you could be more supportive. I was even going to ask you to be the co-instructor!" With that, she turned around and made her way to the door. Snape split his focus, simultaneously struggling not to laugh and not to stare at her derrière as she walked away.

* * *

Most of Harry's weekend was spent cleaning. He would have thought there was a spell to get rid of the graffiti. Instead, Gemma had provided them with vials of cleaning potion courtesy of Snape, and instructions to soak it into cloth and get scrubbing. It took Harry all of Saturday afternoon and evening to clean his room by himself, and most of the following day to tackle the first year corridor with the other boys. Draco seemed to be hit the hardest, constantly asking why they couldn't get the house elves to do it for them. Harry wasn't sure himself, but if Snape had suggested this method, then it must be the only way. Personally, he didn't mind it. The manual labor reminded him of his earlier years at the Dursley's, and while he didn't miss his aunt and uncle, there was something comforting about old habits.

Harry was the first to finish his section of wall, so he decided to help out Draco. The blond boy was so tired of scrubbing that he didn't have anything clever to say. Together, they finished in sync with the rest of the group. The corridor smelled like rotten eggs, but Gemma had assured them that the stench would fade in a few hours. Not eager to stay any longer than necessary, the boys made their way over to dinner. The meal was great as usual, but after finishing they still had a couple of hours to kill. The conversation turned to quidditch, a popular topic on any day.

"So Harry, have you been practicing for the tryouts?" Theo piped in. All eyes turned to Harry, and he shook his head.

"Are you going to practice?"

"Nah. It's not like it will do any good at this point. I mean, how much can I learn in less than a week?"

"Do you even know the rules to the game?" Draco questioned.

"Sure I do, you guys talk about it all the time. I'm trying for seeker, so all I have to do is catch a golden snitch right? How hard can it be?"

His house-mates groaned, and Draco covered his face with his hands. "I can't believe what I'm hearing. OK, we're going to the quidditch pitch right now. I have a practice snitch in my room, so you're in luck."

Harry rolled his eyes. "You would have a golden snitch in your room."

The blond boy looked at him blankly. "Mine is made out of silver - Slytherin colors."

The group made their way back to their dorm so Draco could retrieve his snitch. Most of them did not have quidditch robes, so they changed to something more comfortable than the school robes they were walking around in. For Harry, it was a pair of Muggle sweatpants and a long sleeved shirt. He received some looks from the other, but they did not comment. Next, they made a trip to the broom shed and picked out some of the less beat-up brooms. Eventually, they made their way over to the quidditch pitch. Unfortunately, they were not the only ones. Some older Slytherin boys were already occupying the area. Unperturbed, Draco steered the group back to the open grassy field where they had their first flying lesson.

"I only have the one snitch, so everybody's going to have to play seeker. We can see if Potter is really better than the rest of us. Let's keep it clean - that means no hitting people, especially not me. If you can't help yourself, at least stay away from the face and hair." He glared at Vincent and Gregory, and they gave a sad nod. With that, Draco released the silver ball in his hand. Two wings unfurled from the sides, and it whizzed away in a blur of silver. Draco kicked off from the ground, immediately followed by the rest.

It only took a few seconds for Harry to understand the stupidity of his earlier statement. The snitch was fast! Even keeping track of it was a problem. Between the rest of the boys, Draco was his closest competition. He was largely neck and neck with Harry. Theo was a close second, with Vincent and Greggory tied for third. They were all seemed rather skilled compared to the rest of the class at the flying lesson. Harry guessed that they had been playing quidditch from childhood. It was probably a pure-blood thing. After ten minutes of dips, turns, and areal acrobatics, he finally held the snitch in his hand. Harry landed on the grass, shortly followed by Draco and the others.

"Not bad Harry," he muttered reluctantly. "What do you think of playing Seeker?"

"It's much harder than I thought it would be," Harry conceded. "It moves so fast!"

Draco smirked. "That's just a practice snitch too. The real thing is even faster."

"How am I supposed to keep track of it for the entire game?"

"You don't. A big part of being seeker is spotting the snitch in the first place. The first one to do so has a head start and a major advantage over the other seeker. Let's try it again. This time, lets shut our eyes for five seconds before we take off."

Harry closed his eyes and released the snitch. Five seconds later, he opened them and took off on his broom. It really was considerably more difficult when he didn't already have his eyes on the snitch. It took them twenty minutes to spot it. By the end, only Draco, Theo, and Harry were looking, while Gregory and Vincent were seeing how close they could fly at each other without crashing. Draco caught the snitch this time, and seemed happy to have done so. They repeated the game two more times, with another two victories for Harry.

"I must say, you are the best seeker I have played against. I was hoping I could be the Slytherin seeker, but I see I will just have to stick to just being the smartest and best looking in our year."

Harry stuck his tongue out at Draco. "You should try out with me."

"They probably won't let me. Flint specifically invited you."

"Come along. They will probably need a backup seeker, and you are almost on par with me flying wise. You definitely know more about tactics than I do. I'll tell them that I won't try out if they don't let you try out too."

The blond boy looked at Harry oddly for a moment before smiling. "Alright. Tell you what, I'll give you some dueling pointers in return. You just got lucky last time. Knockback jinx? That was pathetic. I will teach you some real spells. Now, let's get back to the castle before Vincent and Gregory hurt each other."

* * *

Monday was extremely dull. They started the day by potting plants in Herbology. Afterward, they had history of magic. They were discussing Merlin's feud with Morgana, but once again, Professor Bins made it sound only marginally more exciting than scrubbing the dorm walls had been. The final class of the day was DADA. Harry was quite excited about it, but it turned out to be just further practice with the knockback jinx, combined with some new instruction on how to break a fall safely. Hermione, with a newly mended ankle, astutely pointed out that it would have made more sense to teach falling before teaching the knockback jinx. Professor Jones waved her comment away with something about how getting hurt was a part of DADA and helped build character.

Harry teamed up with Neville once again. This time, the tall boy was brandishing a shiny new wand. Harry got to look at it for a couple of seconds before he was thrown onto his back. He got up slowly - nothing seemed broken, thanks to the mats padding the floor - but it hurt anyway. Neville rushed over rattling apologies. Harry told his friend that there was nothing to apologize over, and complimented him on the new wand. They spent the rest of the class taking turns casting at each other. Harry got some pointers on rolling out of the falls from Professor Jones, and getting knocked down felt much less painful by the end of the class.

On his way out of the class, Harry felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to see Hermione staring at her shoes.

"Hey Harry, I just wanted to thank you for saving me at the flying lesson."

Harry blushed. "It's nothing, anybody would have done the same thing."

The girl lifted her head and met his eyes. "I'm not so sure about that. There were eighteen other people there but you were the only one that dived after me."

Harry shrugged with a smile and rubbed the back of his head.

"See you at the library later?" she asked hesitantly.

"Sure, see you then."

Hermione turned and walked out of the door. She was barely out of earshot when Harry heard somebody jeering behind him.

"OOoooo… Harry's got himself a girlfriend."

He turned to look for the source and saw Ron and Seamus.

"Knock it off you guys," Neville interjected.

"Come on Neville. You're a Gryffindor - you should be on our side."

"Hermione's a Gryffindor too, Ron. You shouldn't be talking about her behind her back."

Ronald turned a brighter shade of pink and muttered something unintelligible. He walked out with Seamus, and Harry turned to Neville. "Thanks mate."

"Don't mention it," the boy grinned. "Next time, I might be the one that falls off the broom. You better be there to save me too," he added, playfully punching Harry on the shoulder.

"For sure. Professor Jones may think she knows about breaking falls, but she has nothing on me."

"What's that?" Professor Jones called from the other side of the room.

"Nothing, Professor" they called out, and filed out of the room. Outside, Neville gave a wave to Harry and walked off towards the grand staircase. Harry spotted Draco waiting for him by the door, sans Greggory or Vincent.

"What was all that about, Potter" he smirked.

"Don't worry about it, Draco."

"Alright, if you say so. I was thinking we could get some dueling practice in. Think about it - what if you have to defend Hermione's honor from Ron. Do you think you could fend him off?"

Harry was about to answer, but Draco beat him to it. "You know what, he's a Weasley. A squib could probably fend him off."

At that moment, professor Jones stepped into the doorway. "Did I hear you boys talking about dueling practice?"

"We were just talking, I know there is no dueling in the corridors," Draco stammered.

Professor Jones looked at Draco with scrutiny, and then turned to consider Harry. "You two will do just fine."

"For what, Professor Jones?" Harry replied, puzzled by her cryptic statement.

"For dueling practice, of course. You'll be my guinea pigs!"

Draco looked at Harry with a confused expression, and he mouthed back 'later.'

"Don't tell anybody, but I'm planning on reinstating the dueling club. I will need to make my case before the other professors, and you to will make for a perfect demonstration of how safe dueling can be with proper instruction."

Draco crossed his arms and turned to the professor. "What do we get out of it, professor?"

The woman rolled her eyes. "How about one-on-one instruction from me? Tell you what, I'll even throw in a few house points to sweeten the deal."

The blond boy nodded quickly. "I think we should give it a shot, Harry."

Professor Jones was already walking back into the classroom, so they followed her in. The mats were already set up from the class, and the three made their way over. When they reached the mats, the professor turned to face them, a big smile on her face.

"All right you two, today we are going to learn about dueling! Before we start, do either of you have any experience?"

Harry shook his head.

"I know a bunch of defensive and offensive spells. I've had some tutoring, and my father is a big dueling fan," Draco chimed in.

Professor Jones frowned, but then quickly resumed smiling. "Nothing? That's great! We are going to start off with the proper stance for a duel. You are to stand in the center of the arena, face your partner, and bow to each other." She waved her wand in a circle, and the mats rearranged themselves end to end until they resembled a dueling platform. Draco scowled at being ignored, but professor Jones didn't seem to care. The two boys walked to the center of the platform and bowed to each other.

"Now, you turn around, walk ten paces, and wait for my signal."

The two boys did as she asked. Harry held his wand tightly, ready to spin around. "Go!"

He whirled about and cast the knockback jinx. He heard Draco shout "expeliarmus!", and felt his wand go flying from his hand. He looked at Draco in confusion - the blond boy had stepped aside and out of the way of his knockback jinx. "What was that?"

"Disarming charm," Draco proclaimed proudly.

"Quite so, albeit a bit underpowered," professor Jones chimed in. "Nonetheless, it should be a fine choice for our demonstration. Do you know how to cast it, Harry?"

"First time I've heard of it"

"Ah well, there is a first time for everything. We can go over it today, as well as a primer on movement. As you probably noticed, Draco here moved as you were casting your knockback jinx. You, unfortunately, did not do likewise for his spell. It is generally not a good idea to stand in one spot during a duel unless you fancy yourself Merlin."

Harry blushed, and Draco perked up a bit at the compliment. Professor Jones walked over to Harry, and guided him through the motion for the spell. They spent the rest of the class dueling each other with the disarming charm. Harry was able to get a decent grip on it, although it was still too weak to reliably knock the wand out of Draco's grip. Instead, he focused on improving his mobility, with some success. By the end of the training, they were both sweating profusely, and Jones had a wild glint in her eyes.

"Great job, everybody! Are you free tomorrow evening?"

Harry was about to say something about practicing for the quidditch tryouts before he was interrupted.

"Terrific! I'll see you here."

He turned to Draco, who had a wide-eyed expression similar to his own. Wordlessly, they walked out of the classroom. He could swear he heard the professor cackle 'that will show Sev..." as the door swung closed.

* * *

After the dueling practice, Harry took a shower and headed off to the library. He hadn't gotten around to doing his charms essay yet, and Flitwick wanted it the following day. He was halfway there when he remembered that Hermione expected him to sit with her. He groaned internally - there was little chance of him doing his work uninterrupted if she was there to monologue about all the new things she had learned since the last time they spoke. On the flip side, she might have some useful input on the essay he had to write. Resigned to his fate, he kept going. When he made it into the library, Hermione shot her arm up to get his attention. "I see you" he muttered under his breath, and made his way over to 'their' table.

The bushy haired girl was reading through her astronomy textbook. She smiled at Harry as he sat down. He smiled back awkwardly, and started setting out his school supplies.

"Hi Harry, you're here a bit later than usual."

"Yeah, professor Jones kept Draco and I after class."

The girl frowned. "Did you get in trouble for something."

"No," he replied, spreading out a piece of parchment on the table. "She asked me not to talk about what we did - it's like extra credit of sorts."

"Wow," she gasped. "It's great to see somebody else taking school seriously for once."

"Right," Harry muttered.

"What are you working on now?"

"This Charms essay."

"You didn't do it yet!? Flitwick assigned it last week."

"Yeah, let's just say I was preoccupied this weekend." Hermione looked at him expectantly. "I was cleaning up magical graffiti along with the rest of the first year boys. Some upperclassmen decided to paint every inch of our rooms with Gryffindor colors."

Hermione covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh my god. I hope they didn't do that because you saved me at the flying lesson."

Harry's eyelid twitched. He couldn't believe he hadn't made the connection earlier. It made a lot of sense - Flint had specifically asked him why he had saved the Gryffindor girl. Many other upperclassmen were probably wondering the same thing, and some may have decided to act on it. He could feel his temper rising - partially angry at his own stupidity for not seeing the connection earlier, and partly from irrational anger at Hermione for being the cause of his suffering over the past weekend. He put his occulumency lesson with Snape to use, and focused on reigning in the anger. He was partially successful - he didn't say or do anything he would regret, but Hermione could see on his face that something was wrong.

"I'm so sorry Harry. I wish there weren't different houses. All it does is make people hate each other for no reason."

He exhaled slowly, and forced a smile. "Don't worry about it. It wasn't your fault."

Hermione smiled back, but she still looked worried. "Can I help you with your charms essay? It's the least I can do."

Harry nodded, his anger fading away as he remembered the assignment in front of him. "That would be awesome, Hermione. Any idea where to start for a history of the levitation spell?"

"Of course. You should start off with the section in our textbook - just as a primer. I saw a lot of people in my common room writing their entire essay from it, but I don't think there is enough information there to do a good job. I found a couple of other books here that expand on the topic. You can start writing the introduction, and I'll go fetch them."

Harry put his quill to the parchment, and started outlining everything that he remembered learning about the spell in class or from the textbook. True to her word, Hermione returned with a pair of thick leather bound books. One of them was a biography of Jarleth Hobart - the 16th century wizard that had created the spell. The second was a technical primer on charms that went into far greater detail than the introductory book they used for class. With Hermione's help, Harry was able to finish his essay in a only couple of hours. By the time he was done, his head felt pretty heavy.

"I think I'm going to head back to my room. I feel ready to drop."

"You have your own room!?"

"Yeah, all the Slytherins do."

"Lucky! OK, see you tomorrow!"

* * *

When the weekend finally arrived, Dumbedore felt like shouting for joy. He didn't do so, of course. Instead, he helped himself to a lemon drop. Over the past few days, he had orchestrated Zabini's transfer to Drumstrang, and had recruited a new student for Gryffindor. He even managed to do both in the same trip. The houses were structured to have ten new students each year - five boys and five girls. He could have left it at nine Gryffindors, but it would have created all sorts of logistical problems down the road. On top of that, he had taken care of some issues that popped up over the course of the week. According to Severus, Draco Malfoy had spent a brief stint in the hospital due to an unintentional legillimency attack from Harry. A manifestation of this type of power in a boy so young was both worrying and extremely rare. However, he had been assured by the potions master that occulumency training was already on the way, and Albus felt it should be sufficient to prevent any further legillimency outbursts.

After his brief respite, the headmaster turned to the letter he had received from Quirrell. He carefully dispelled the charm keeping the containment envelope sealed, and levitated the letter into one of the brass contraptions that lined the shelves of his office. First, he had to be sure that the letter had not been forged. He pulled his memory of Quirrell, and added it to the machine. It would use advanced alchemy to determine if the magical signature of the man in his memory was consistent with the trace amounts of magic left on the letter. It was tricky in that it only worked with Dumbledore's own memories - few other people were able to sense magic, and hence their memories were incomplete. Nonetheless, he felt confident he had enough experience with Quirrell to have sufficiently strong memories of the man's magical signature. He occupied himself with some paperwork while he waited for the machine to complete the analysis.

An hour later, a metallic chime alerted Albus that the results were ready. Upon looking at the runes freshly etched into the display, he frowned. The results were inconclusive - there were traces of Quirrell's magic on the letter, but also traces of something else - something darker. This sort of mix was often seen in cases of lycantorphy, vampirism, or possession. Vampirism seemed like a likely case, especially since the contents of the letter detailed that Quirrell would be staying behind to research Vampires. This was bad - professors getting infected on Hogwarts sanctioned trips wasn't very good for the school's reputation. Dumbledore knew that he should check up on Quirrell personally to see if his suspicions were true. He glanced back at the paperwork piling up on his desk. Juggling his duties as Headmaster, Supreme Mugwump, and Chief Warlock was difficult in the best of times. He would have to put off his excursion to Albania until the following weekend at the earliest. After all, there was little he could do if Quirrell was already a vampire, and as such the situation was not time sensitive.

* * *

 **A/N: Hope you've enjoyed the story so far! I am writing parts of year one chapters from Snape and Dumbledore's points of view because Harry is still 11, and his life is relatively unexciting - at least compared to what it will be like in the subsequent years ;)  
**


	7. Staff Only

The rest of Harry's week followed the same basic pattern. He would have classes during the morning and afternoon. Afterwards, he and Draco would practice dueling under Professor Jones' supervision. He would then go to the library and study with Hermione. She could be annoying at times, but Harry was starting to get used to her. Besides, Hermione's need to show off her cleverness was offset by the fact that she actually was clever. With her help, Harry was able to finish his work more quickly than most of the other Slytherins, even though they had been tutored prior to entering Hogwarts. He got a twisted feeling of satisfaction whenever he walked into the common room and saw Vincent or Gregory working on their essays well into the night. Along the way, Harry had the chance to learn more about his new study partner. Hermione's parents were apparently dentists, and she too was an only child. Much like Harry, she had been stunned to learn about the magical world.

Apart from Draco and Hermione, his main chance to socialize with other students came at mealtime. This week, the majority of the conversation revolved around Quidditch. Draco had told the guys that he would also be trying out. Theo must have felt left out, because he took it upon himself to spend a couple of evenings at the Quidditch pitch scouting some of the upperclassmen that were getting ready for tryouts. He had confirmed their suspicion that there was no shortage of experienced Chasers and Beaters among the older students. The handful of candidates trying out for Keeper were only decent, but Flint favored staying on the offense, so it was unlikely that opposing teams would be taking many shots in the first place. The candidates for Seeker were by far the weakest of the lot. Some of them were decent fliers, but none of them had Draco's skill or Harry's instinct on a broom. On the whole, Theo was quite excited about their chances when he explained his observations over dinner that Thursday. At the same time, he was frustrated at the lack of practice time they had been putting in.

"I told you already," Draco replied, "we've been busy with something else."

Theo rolled his eyes his eyes. "Right, your daily visits with Professor Jones. Are you finally going to tell us what that's about?" A couple of the girls were listening in from the other end of the table, apparently also curious about what Draco and Harry had been up to.

"No. I think it makes me rather mysterious." He winked at the girls, and Tracy mimicked throwing up before turning back to Runcorn.

"What about you Harry? Will you be a sport and tell your friends what the two of you have been doing?"

Harry stared back at the lanky boy, and mimed zipping his lips.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Harry slapped his forehead. "I forgot, wizarding clothes don't use zippers. It means I'm not going to tell you anything. You'll find out in a couple of days anyway."

It was true too, Jones had been increasingly antsy as each day went by. At their practice earlier that evening, she had kept them for an extra hour. Harry's focus over the past few days had been on mastering the disarming charm, and he had reached the point where it worked every time. Sometimes, it even knocked Draco off his feet. His floor movement had also improved, although he had always been fairly agile so the change was not as dramatic. The other boy still had the advantage when it came to spell repertoire, but Harry found that the couple of offensive spells he knew were all he needed to win the duel. All he had to do was disarm Draco, so there really was no point in wasting time casting anything other than the disarming charm. Sometimes he threw in a knockback jinx, and sometimes Draco decided to get creative, but on the whole, their duels had dissolved into a competition of reflexes.

"Fine," Theo replied. "You don't have your 'thing' on Saturday though, right?"

"Probably not," Draco interjected, "but who knows with Jones?"

"Even if you do, it can't possible take all day. I expect the two of you to fit some flying practice into your busy schedules."

"Yes Mother."

Theo didn't seem to find the joke funny, and spent the rest of dinner trading insults with Draco. It reminded Harry of the first time he had joined them for a meal after the sorting. He figured they would run out of steam eventually, so he occupied himself with finishing his food. By the time he was done, Vincent and Greggory had already left, and Draco and Theo had simmered down a bit. It was odd, but the two larger boys no longer followed Draco around everywhere. The trio didn't seem to have much in common apart from being family friends, so the growing rift between them made sense to Harry.

After dinner, he joined Hermione at the library. As he sat down, he noticed that she was working on their latest potions essay. It had turned out to be one of Harry's favorite classes. He had skimmed through the class textbook during the week before classes, so he usually had a rough idea of what Snape was talking about. The class reminded him of cooking, only each step had to be carried out with far greater precision. Neville was also doing well in the class, or rather, in every class since he had gotten his new wand. It seemed that his newfound proficiency with magic had encouraged him to work harder. Harry too was improving quite quickly. He had his second occlumency lesson with Snape that week, and the mental exercises he learned were useful when casting. On top of that, the daily trainings with Draco and Hestia had forced him to get more comfortable with using his wand, and his magical stamina had grown proportionally.

Hermione seemed unusually quiet that day. Harry chalked it up to her trying to focus on the potions essay, so he let her be. Instead of doing his own essay, he decided to look for a book on dueling. According to Theo, the librarian had been extremely unhelpful when asked for books on warding the dorm. That meant that Harry was better off searching by himself. It took fifteen minutes to find something that was remotely relevant, and he spent the next couple of hours browsing through the book. It was some type of dueling history, describing famous instances and the respective styles of the duelists. There was an entire chapter devoted to Dumbledore's duel with Grindelwald. According to the book, Grindelwald had more power behind his spells, and knew more than any man living about the combat branch of the dark arts. Rather than try to overpower his opponent, Dumbledore had used his unmatched transfiguration and charms skills to trap and disarm his foe. It didn't make much sense to Harry - from what he had seen in his training with Malfoy, speed and power were the primary determinants of who would win. Nonetheless, he figured it might be useful to expand his repertoire at some point.

* * *

Snape leaned back in his chair and did his best to zone out Sybil's drivel. She insisted on starting every staff meeting with a reading, and the headmaster didn't have the heart to tell her no. Severus didn't know why the old man kept her around. True, she had delivered a few prophecies of value. Alas, they were like drops of clarity in a vast ocean of nonsense. Today, she was going on and on about how somebody would fall to their death from the astronomy tower. There were charms in place to prevent any living being from taking a dive, so her prediction was entirely implausible. Besides, death was one of her favorite topics to rant about - nobody really paid any attention, even when her predictions weren't completely nonsensical. In Snape's opinion, she should have been dismissed from her teaching position a long time ago. As with many of his more unpopular opinions, he kept it to himself.

"The astronomy tower… how remarkable," Albus commented. "Tank you, Sybil. Filius, could you check the safety charms tonight?"

Filius gave a small start when the headmaster spoke. Snape could always count on him to nod off - it was a bit like a meter of how boring the meetings are. Occasionally, the spectral history professor would interrupt the meeting with a tangent that related to an issue in some obscure and convoluted way. In those cases, Filius sometimes fell out of his chair. Minevra was her usual stoic self. She would probably be the next headmaster after Albus was gone, so it was a good thing she had the ability to deal with the mind numbing boredom of meetings, paperwork, and bureaucracy. Snape did not envy her. The rest of the staff were all in their usual seats, save for Jones. He hoped she would be reprimanded - it was unjust for him to have to sit through thus drudgery while she got to enjoy her evening.

"Yes headmaster," the charms professor replied. Albus nodded contently.

Snape himself rarely paid any attention to what what was going on, only speaking if somebody asked him a direct question. In fact, these weekly meetings were the perfect opportunity to meditate. Between classes, detentions, and research, there was never much time for him to be alone with his thoughts. Yesterday was busier than usual with Potter's latest occlumency lesson. He wasn't quite sure what to think of the boy. He was not his father, nor was he Lily. He resembled them physically, true, but that was where his similarities to either parent ended. From what Snape could see during potions class or in the great hall, Potter was back on good terms with the rest of the Slytherins, and with Draco in particular. It was confounding - he had either forgiven his housemates for the sins of their fathers, or was merely bottling up his rage for a more opportune moment. James Potter would have started a feud, and Lilly wasn't very forgiving when it came to death eater matters, as Snape intimately knew. Harry was a mystery. While Snape would never admit it, this mystery intrigued him.

"Thank you. Now, Hestia asked to speak to us about something today. You may have noticed her absence," the headmaster gestured towards the empty chair, "but rest assured, she informed me that she had a little demonstration for us and needed to make her preparations."

Snape frowned. A demonstration? Could she have taken him seriously the last time they had spoken? No, she knew he was mocking her and wanted to show him that she could turn his words on their head. What an abrasive woman. No matter, he was confident she couldn't persuade Albus to reinstate the dueling club. He himself had tried a few years ago, even used it as part of his pitch for why he would make a good DADA professor. The headmaster had given an adamant no to both of Snape's proposals. She too would crash and burn, only for her, it would happen in front of the entire Hogwarts staff. He wasn't sure if he should be pleased or upset. Instead, he settled for feigned indifference.

"I believe she is approaching now." A couple of seconds after Albus had spoken, the doors to their meeting room swung open and Hestia stepped through. She was dressed in burgundy sports robes, with a slit in the side to facilitate free movement. They revealed glimpses of her legs as she walked towards their table. **Focus** Severus. He shut his eyes tightly and opened them again. She had students with her - Draco and Potter. Now **this** was interesting. Surely she didn't expect to pair them off for a duel. His godson had been dueling since he could hold a wand. Snape himself had given him a few private lessons, and that on top of all his other tutors. Potter wouldn't stand a chance, not without another legimency outburst, and that was improbable. No, the occlumency the boy was learning should forestall any unintentional legimency attack. That left Potter with one option. Lose the duel. Badly.

"Greetings, friends and coworkers," Hestia greeted with a smile as she looked around the room.

Snape saw her eyes narrow slightly when they met his. He smirked back coolly, internally wincing. It looked like she was still sore over his teasing. Today certainly wouldn't make things any better. If anything, her failure would probably make her hate him.

"Greetings Hestia," Albus replied. "Hello Harry, Draco. I take it you have brought these students along for your demonstration?"

"Yes, headmaster. I am seeking your permission to reinstate the dueling club. I brought Harry and Draco along to give a demonstration of what I have achieved in merely a week of instruction."

The headmaster arched his eyebrows. "I commend your initiative, Hestia. Are you aware that the dueling club was banned for being a dangerous and distracting influence on the student body?"

She paled slightly, but replied smoothly. "Yes headmaster. I can assure you that I would take all necessary safety precautions, and limit participation solely to students that are in good standing. This would both cut down on the dangerous nature of dueling, and encourage academic achievement."

Albus smiled at the woman. "It appears you have given this matter some thought. Let us see what you have managed in a week, as you say. But before you carry on, I must inform you that the decision does not rest solely with me. I will have to consult the Hogwarts board of governors - no matter how impressive your demonstration may be."

Hestia nodded quickly. "Could we clear an aisle in the center of the room?"

The staff rose from their seats, and stood by the side of the room. Albus swept his wand - the table, chairs, and everything on them shrunk until they were the size of a deck of playing cards, and drifted over into his palm. Hestia raised her own wand, and intoned the summoning charm. Cushioned mats floated in from the hallway outside, and with flicks of her wand, the professor deployed them in a line along the center of the room. The headmaster joined the rest of the staff by the wall, and inclined his head towards Hestia.

The woman turned towards Harry and Draco. "Alright boys, make me proud."

* * *

Harry gulped as he walked towards the center of the room alongside Draco. His hands were shaking - it had felt different when it was just him, Draco, and Professor Jones. He took his position opposite the blond boy, and nodded at his opponent. The blond boy grinned back, although his skin seemed even paler than usual. Harry looked to the right at the professors. Most of them looked intrigued, especially Professor Flitwick. Snape was standing with his arms crossed, a smirk on his face. When his eyes met Dumbledore's, the headmaster smiled at Harry.

"Filius?'

The charms professor raised his wand, and rattled off an incantation. A shimmering barrier appeared between the professors and the duelists before fading until it was nearly imperceptible. Professor Jones turned back towards them.

"OK boys, wands out and bow."

Harry faced Draco once more, and took out his wand. The blond boy bowed at the waist, and Harry did likewise. They wheeled about, facing away from each other. Harry walked ten paces, his counterpart's muffled footsteps in sync behind him. He stopped, mentally reviewing what he had learned in the past couple of weeks. Knees slightly bent, shoulder width apart. Stay low, and keep moving. Minimize profile, wand out in front. Keep moving, and don't stop casting until Jones calls it or your wand is gone.

"Now!"

Harry spun around and stepped to his left, simultaneously casting the disarming charm. He didn't see where his spell went, but he did hear Draco shout 'expeliarmus', and felt something fly past his right shoulder. Harry kept moving to the left, and cast again. This time, he saw his spell make contact with Draco's chest, and the blond boy's wand flew out of his hand.

"Round one to Harry! Prepare for round two."

Harry walked to the center of the mat, and saw Draco pick up his wand where it had fallen. The other boy had a slight frown on his face as he returned. He bowed, whispering "It's on for real now, Potter."

Harry bowed, and whispered back. "Let's see what you've got, Draco."

The blond boy smirked and wheeled around. Harry did likewise, and paced off ten steps. His strategy had worked pretty well last time, so he would stick to it. This time, he would step to the right. It wouldn't do to get predictable.

"Now!"

He stepped to the right, shouting 'Expeliarmus.' He had barely finished the incantation when his wand flew out of his hand. Needless to say, his own spell didn't connect.

"Round two to Draco! Prepare for round three."

Harry walked to where his wand had fallen. That had been quick, although it was mostly just a matter of luck. He could either go to the left or to the right. Even if Draco took guess, he would be correct half of the time. The spells themselves were too fast to dodge, so all Harry's floorcraft did was make it more difficult for Draco to aim. Unfortunately, the other boy had good aim and more dueling experience than Harry, so he did a good job of compensating for movement. As Harry walked back to the starting point, he could see that Draco was a bit more relaxed now. The blond boy whispered once more as they bowed.

"This is pretty boring, I'm going to mix it up a bit."

Harry wondered what his opponent would do. He had a decent grasp of Draco's repertoire from their training sessions over the past week, but he knew his house-mate was sneaky enough to keep at least a couple of spells stashed just in case. This could just be an attempt to get into Harry head, but he was inclined to believe Draco. "Sounds good."

"Don't say I didn't warn you, Harry." With a wink, Draco spun around.

Harry paced off in the opposite direction. He gripped his wand tightly, and took a few quick breaths in preparation.

"Now!"

Harry spun about and cast. His disarming spell struck Draco in the chest. Simultaneously, Draco own spell struck Harry, and he felt a strange sensation sweep over his face. He turned towards Jones - she should have called the duel but she hesitated. Flitwick clapped his hands and laughed in his high pitched voice.

"A wonderful teaching moment, let's allow this one to proceed a bit longer, Hestia," Dumbledore interjected jovially.

Harry frowned. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He saw Draco walk towards his own wand slowly, smiling at Harry as he did so. Was the duel still on? He looked to Jones, and she gestured towards Draco. Oh well. Harry tried to cast the knockback jinx, but nothing happened. The words coming out of his mouth sounded like gibberish. He tried again to no avail. Draco picked up his wand and disarmed him. He looked up at professor Jones, and she walked over to Harry.

"Let's call this one a tie. Finite incantatem."

Harry felt the feeling in his mouth dissipate. "Come on, I disarmed him first!"

"True, but this is just a demonstration… so we can bend the rules a bit." Jones turned to Draco. "Good use of the tongue-tying jinx, although you might want to do something about the disarming charm first next time."

"Nicely done boys, you both show great potential." Professor Dumbledore smiled at them. "Hestia, likewise to you. This demonstration seemed both safe and practical. I will present the idea to the board of governors, and inform you of our decision."

"Thank you. I will escort the boys back to their common room now."

"As you will. Severus can fill you in on whatever you miss here."

Harry looked at Snape, but the man was expressionless. He followed Professor Jones out of the meeting room alongside Draco. The professor levitated the mats behind them. As soon as the door closed behind them, she began to speak.

"How do you two think that went?"

They were silent for a few seconds. Harry turned to Draco, Malfoy was usually eager to make his voice heard. Instead, the boy was looking back at him with a smirk and just raised his eyebrows at Harry. Making him take the risk - how Slytherin.

"Well, I think we both did a decent job with the disarming charm. Draco showed some versatility with the last spell, and I'm sure he could have done something nastier so I am grateful for his restraint."

Professor Jones scoffed. "Nicely phrased, you may have a future in the ministry. You both did a fine job, considering how little time we had to prepare. How do you like dueling?"

Draco spoke first this time. "This is how magic is meant to be used. I am tired of wasting my time turning toothpicks into needles."

"The spells you learn in your other classes do have a purpose… but I can see your point. There is nothing like the adrenaline rush of facing down an opponent, particularly once you develop your skills further."

"Professor, what do you think we could improve on? It feels like there isn't much point to anything other than the disarming charm - it pretty much ends the duel, doesn't it? The spells themselves are nearly impossible to avoid, so it's just a matter of who has better aim."

Jones smiled at Harry, ruffling his hair. "That's what I like to hear, already thinking ahead to the next duel. As far as your question goes, the disarming charm losses some of it's relevancy later on. Your opponents will be able to defend themselves - shielding spells, charms, blocking with transfigured objects, mind-arts, the list goes on and on. At the moment, you have no real way of protecting yourself… and that's OK. You're a first year - we all started where you now stand."

"Will you continue training us?"

Professor Jones paused for a moment, but then nodded slowly. "Yes, I think I will. Assuming the dueling club is approved, I will have plenty of opportunity to teach you there. I designed the DADA curriculum to complement the dueling club, so I would be doing my job. Even if it is not approved, I can still help the two of you once in a while, and give you guidance on what to practice, although I would be far more limited in what I can do for you."

They soon reached the common room entrance, and Professor Jones left with a wave. Harry and Draco waited until she was gone, and then opened the hidden entrance with the password. It was fairly crowded inside - classes were over for the day, so everybody was either working on homework or socializing. Harry considered going to the library, but decided he'd had enough excitement for one day. He followed Draco back to their rooms, and was about to unlock his own when the other boy spoke.

"Wait here for a minute, I want to show you something."

Harry stood by his door until the blond boy returned. He had a picture frame in his hands. In it, Harry could see a taller, longer haired version of Draco dueling another person. The occupants of the picture were moving around and casting spells at each other, with small flashes of light spanning the distance between them.

"That kind of looks like you."

"I would hope so since it's my father. He was on the Hogwarts team back when we still had one. This is him competing against Drumstrang."

"What's that?"

"It's one of the better international schools. It's almost as good as Hogwarts overall, but probably better at dueling specifically... Especially now since Hogwarts stopped teaching dueling."

"Is Hogwarts really that good?"

Draco turned to Harry, his mouth slightly ajar. "You can't be serious. Hogwarts is the most selective school in all of Britain. The chances of getting in are less than one in twenty."

"Wow, I didn't know that."

"Clearly. Anyway, as I was saying before, my dad was on the Hogwarts team. On top of that, he is currently on the board of governors. I'm going to write to him - he'll make sure that Dumbledore reinstates the dueling club."

"He can do that?"

Draco looked at Harry with a deadpan expression. "He's a Malfoy, we can do anything."

*cough* "Except win a duel" *cough*

"Just you wait, Potter. You're lucky I didn't want to humiliate you in front of the professors."

"I know, I am eternally grateful to be blessed with a friend like you."

"That's more like it." Draco turned and walked back into his room. Harry shook his head and unlocked his own door. He changed out of his clothes, and dived into his bed. It had been a long second week of school, so he was glad it was finally Friday night. Between Jones' dueling training and the meditative exercises Snape had assigned, Harry was exhausted both physically and mentally. On top of that, there was the Quidditch tryout coming up in just a couple of days. Theo and Draco would expect him to practice for most of tomorrow, so he would have to be extra efficient with the rest of his time to make sure he didn't fall behind in classes - Hermione wouldn't like that. It felt strange to suddenly have people care what he did. The Dursleys hadn't given a thought to where he was or what he was doing, so the experience was completely new to him. It was convenient that Harry himself liked classes, dueling and Quidditch, so he didn't feel like he was being forced into something. In a way, he felt liberated. It felt like his life had only really started the day he arrived at Hogwarts.

* * *

 **A/N: I'd like to thank mwinter1 for catching an inconsistency in an earlier chapter. If anybody ever finds a mistake/typo, please let me know so that I can fix it.**


	8. Quidditch

Harry woke up to a banging noise. For a moment, he was six years old again and Dudley was stomping on the stairs. Fortunately, he was eleven and at Hogwarts. He got up groggily, and put his glasses on. In under a minute, he had his robe on and was at the door. Harry opened it, and was greeted by Theo's scowling face.

"Do you know what time it is?"

Harry folded his arms across his chest. "I could ask you the same thing. I was sleeping, you know."

"It's nine in the morning! You can save sleep for later. We have to go grab brooms before they run out."

"Why would they run out?"

"Hello? Quidditch tryouts? Everybody and their mother is going to feel like flying today - even if they're not trying out."

Harry rubbed his eyes. Theo had a point.

"Yeah, give me a second to put on my shoes. Is Draco coming?"

"That git is probably fixing his hair. He'll be ready in a few minutes. I don't know why he bothers - the wind is going to ruffle it anyway."

"A Malfoy must always look his best," Harry replied in his best impression of Draco's voice.

As soon as he had his shoes on, he joined his friend in the corridor. A few minutes later, Draco's door swung open and its occupant strolled out leisurely.

"Alright, let's get a move on," Theo announced, shooting a glare at the later arrival.

The trio made their way through the dungeons, and up the grand staircase. The castle was fairly empty - it seemed like most people had decided to sleep in. As they walked past the great hall, the aroma of bacon and eggs drifted through the doors. Harry found the smell irresistible, and it seemed like Draco felt the same.

"Let's stop for a quick bite."

Theo groaned. "Fine, but if all the brooms are gone by the time we finish, you'll owe me a galleon."

Draco shrugged nonchalantly. The interior of the great hall was somewhat more populated, with small groups of students scattered here and there. Harry spotted Daphne and Tracy sitting at the Slytherin first year table. The boys made their way towards the table. As they got close, Daphne beckoned, so they sat down opposite the girls.

"Hi Harry. I hear you're trying out for Seeker."

"You heard about that? Yeah, we're going to head out and practice after breakfast."

"Everybody heard about it. Apparently, Flint personally asked you to try out."

"Yeah… that's right," he replied awkwardly. "Draco's trying out too, you know."

"That's great," Daphnee replied with a yawn. "I've been thinking, us girls should come to the tryouts and cheer you on. You know, to show some unity."

"She thinks Flint is dreamy," Tracy piped in.

"Shut up! I do not."

"Do too!"

"Ladies, stop arguing. I know you're both coming to the tryouts to watch me."

Daphne stuck her tongue out at Draco. "I have my sights set higher. That might be true for Pansy though…"

Draco blushed, and suddenly got interested in his omelet. The Slytherin boys also dug into their food. Harry still couldn't get over how convenient meals were in the great hall. There was a fixed menu dinner at 6:00pm, after all the classes were over. Breakfast and lunch could be had at any time, since class schedules were different between upper and lower years. Every day, a menu was posted on the wall, and all he had to do was tap his wand against his plate and announce what he wanted. He wasn't sure who prepared the food or how it got to his plate, but it generally appeared mere seconds after being ordered. He spent the next fifteen minutes eating his toast and sausages. Draco and Theo were similarly preoccupied, while Daphne and Tracy were whispering back and forth. Disconcertingly, they turned to look at him.

"Hey Harry, we hear you've been spending a lot of time with that know-it-all from Gryffindor."

"Maybe, what's it to you?"

"Nothing," Tracy replied. "We are just trying to look out for your best interest."

"How's that?"

"Everybody in her house hates her you know. If you're looking for a girlfriend you can do better."

"I'm not interested in her like that," Harry sputtered.

"That's how it starts you know," Daphne cooed. "First, you're studying together, then you're kissing in the astronomy tower."

"Hey guys, I think we should head out"

"Brilliant idea, Theo." Harry tapped his wand on his plate, and it vanished after a few seconds, along with his goblet and utensils. Together with the two other boys, he walked out of the great hall. "Thanks for saving me back there."

"Don't sweat it. It's the truth - we really have to get going."

The air outside the castle was nippy. Harry was glad for the coverage provided by his robes. As they were walking towards the broom shed, Harry spotted the giant man that had escorted them from the train. He was carrying a sack the size of uncle Vernon slung over one shoulder. He waved a meaty hand at Harry as he passed by the group.

"Mornin' Harry."

"Er… Hello."

"Goin' fer a walk?"

"We're headed to the broom shed, actually."

"Ah, flyin' then. Yer father was a great flier. I 'ave some photos of yer parents if you ever want to stop by my cabin fer tea."

Harry only thought about it for a second. He never had any pictures of them. Now that he thought about it, this bothered him.

"Sure, would next week be fine?"

"Yea, see you then!" The giant man continued on his path, the trio resumed walking towards the shed. Draco turned his head towards Harry, a questioning look on his face.

"Do you know him?"

"No, not really. I only met him when he led us to the castle. Do you?"

"Father told me about all of the staff. Apparently, his name's Hagrid, and he's a bit dim. Half-troll or something. I wouldn't go to his cabin if I was you."

Harry shrugged. "I can't really back out now without offending him. Besides, he's staff after all, so I should be safe enough."

"Suit yourself. Maybe he'll eat you, and father will finally have what he needs to get him put down."

When they finally made it to the broom closet, Harry was disappointed to see that there were only a few brooms left, all of which looked rather worn. He grabbed one at random and took to the skies, with his housemates at his tail. They trained with the practice snitch for an hour, with Harry and Draco each catching the silver orb twice and Theo once. Afterwards, they played tag on their brooms. Flying so close to and sometimes directly at other people felt a bit unsafe to Harry, but he was reassured by Draco that actual Quidditch matches were far more dangerous, so he might as well overcome his fears now. Once they grew bored, the group descended to the shed and placed the beaten brooms in their rack.

"These brooms are pathetic. I can't believe us first years aren't allowed to bring our own."

The school brooms were the only ones Harry had ever flown on, so he couldn't really judge.

"Do you have a better one at home?"

The blond boy scoffed. "Of course. Father owns a piece of Nimbus. I get the newest model each year for Christmas."

"Good for you," Theo muttered.

* * *

It was already past noon when they returned to the castle, so the trio made their way to the great hall for lunch. Harry stopped just inside the main door. Vincent and Gregory were sitting at the first year Slytherin table across from Pansy. She seemed to be worked up about something, gesturing with her hands as she spoke, but the two boys across from her were busy shoveling down food.

"I really don't want to deal with this right now," Draco lamented.

Harry looked around the rest of the great hall, and spotted Neville sitting by himself at the first-year Gryffindor's table. He elbowed Draco and tilted his chin towards the front of the room. "How about we sit with Neville this time?"

"With a Gryffindor?"

"Why not? Beats sitting with Pansy right?"

"Both options sound pretty bad."

"Come on… I think you'll like him. He's a pureblood just like you, although obviously not as talented or wealthy."

"Awww, stop it. Alright, I'll join you. Nott?"

"I think I'll stay at our table. I can let you know what Pansy is fuming about."

"You're one of a kind."

Harry walked over to the Gryffindor table with Draco in tow. A few heads turned as they approached Neville, and even the boy in question stopped eating to stare at them.

"Hi Harry… and Draco."

"Hi Neville! Things are a bit tense at the Slytherin table today, so I thought we could keep you company."

Neville paused for a moment, then nodded slowly and gestured at the bench. Harry sat down, and tapped his plate while saying 'roast chicken.'

"Where are the rest of your housemates?"

"Dean, Ron, and Seamus are out giving the new guy a tour of the castle. I don't know about the girls…"

"You have somebody new in Gryffindor?"

"They try to keep ten students per house in each year, so it was only a matter of time after Blaise transferred out. Any idea who he is or where he is from?" Draco interjected.

Neville frowned slightly and shook his head. "He only just arrived this morning - I spoke to him for all of two minutes. His name is Boris and he was at Drumstrang for the past couple of weeks, but I don't know anything about his family or how much money he has, if that's what you are getting at."

Draco raised his hands. "Easy there."

"Any plans for the weekend, Neville?"

The boy turned to look at Harry. "Not really. I'm going to try to power through my homework today... maybe go to the greenhouse if there's time. How about you?"

"The Slytherin Quidditch trials are this week. Draco and I are trying out for Seeker."

Neville raised his eyebrows. "Wow, I didn't know first years could play…"

"It's up to the team captains, and usually they don't let anybody our age try out since they think it's a waste of their time. Flint made an exception for us though."

"Why did he do that?"

"Harry here saved one of your housemates with a fancy dive, and word got out to Flint that he can fly. I'm as good if not better on a broom, so he decided to bring me along."

Harry leaned in towards Neville. "Don't tell anybody I said this, but the Slytherins trying out for Seeker are pretty weak. Flint is in a tight spot."

Neville nodded slowly, and took a sip from his goblet. Harry's eyes almost popped out when his friend's hair turned bright green. A group of older students to their right burst out in laughter. Neville shot them a look, and then turned back to his mashed potatoes. Draco was doing his best to stifle a laugh.

Harry spoke up. "Umm… Neville?"

"Yeah?"

"Your hair is green."

The boy grabbed a polished plate from the table, and looked at himself in the reflection. He groaned loudly, laying his head on the table.

"Are you OK?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I think so, at least. It's Ron's brothers… they've been terrorizing all the first years in our house. They especially like going after me and Hermione."

"How did they do that to your hair?"

"I don't know. They're pretty crafty, so I'm sure they have a way."

"I doubt any number of Weasleys could manage something like this..." Draco interjected.

Neville shook his head, leaning forward towards the two Slytherins. "Those two aren't anything like Ron. They know tons of spells and are good at making prank potions and stuff. They almost never get caught."

"What if it was somebody else, and they're counting on you thinking it's the Weasleys?"

"I doubt that, I mostly keep to myself, so I don't really have anybody that is out to get me. The Weasleys do it for sport, so they don't need a reason."

Harry reached out and patted Neville on the shoulder. "What are you going to do about it?"

"I'll probably go to the infirmary and see if Madam Pomfrey knows how to reverse whatever they did. Even if she can't, it should wear off on its own. It's very hard to change hair color permanently. Even Gran has to use a special potion every couple of months to do her hair. It's no big deal."

"That's a relief. You mentioned earlier that they like going after Hermione?"

"Yeah, it's not just them either. Everybody thinks she's annoying."

Harry thought about the bushy haired girl. Neville had a point - she could be irritating when she started talking about something. It felt like she had no sense for when people were no longer interested in listening, and quickly became a nuisance. That was in a library, where she was probably trying her hardest to be quiet. He couldn't imagine what she was like in the Gryffindor common room. Nonetheless, he felt bad for her. He never saw her with other people, and according to what Neville was saying, some of her house-mates were going out of their way to torment her.

"Maybe you could try to keep an eye out for each other? She's pretty smart, you know… and you kind of get used to her after a while."

Neville rubbed his hair hesitantly, but then nodded. "Alright, I guess I could do that. It might just make things worse, but maybe it will make them better. I suppose I won't know until I give it a try."

"In the meantime, if you ever feel like you need company at lunch, feel free to join me at the Slytherin table." Harry felt Draco kick him under the table, so he intentionally elbowed him back as he rose to his feet. "I think we're going to head off now. We've been flying all morning, and I don't know about Draco, but I could do for a nap."

"Alright, later Harry. Draco."

As soon as they left the great hall, the blond boy spoke up. "What were you thinking! We can't have him at our table."

"Why not?"

"We… we just can't. He's a Gryffindor. Can you imagine what my father would do if he found out? I already took a pretty big risk today just sitting with him once."

"Alright, I don't think he's going to take me up on that offer anyway. I imagine Neville's just as scared of the other Slytherins as you are of your father."

Draco stayed silent for a moment, before chuckling.

"What's so funny?"

"I never would have thought there is so much intrigue in Gryffindor."

* * *

After taking a nap, Harry decided to follow Neville's example and finish his homework. There was little chance he would have any time to do it the following day with Quidditch tryouts and all. He grabbed his books and headed off to the library. Unsurprisingly, Hermione was sitting at the usual table. As Harry sat down, he noticed that her eyes were red and puffy. She didn't said anything, so he took the initiative.

"Hey Hermione."

"Hello," she replied, her voice scratchy. She continued to write on her parchment.

"Are you OK?"

She looked up at Harry, staring at his eyes for a moment. "What do you think?"

"Was it the Weasleys?"

She paused for a moment. "Not today, this time it was Lavender."

Harry frowned. "What, the flower?"

Hermione smiled a bit. "No, the girl."

"Is she pretty like a flower at least?"

"No… I think she's rather plain. She knocked my books down when I was coming down the dormitory stairs. Her personality isn't very flower-like either."

"It certainly doesn't sound like it. What are you going to do?"

The bushy-haired girl shrugged. "What can I do? It feels like the entire house is against me."

Harry tapped his fingers on the table for a moment. "Do you know Neville?"

"Yeah… he's alright. He doesn't pick on me."

"Maybe you could sit with him at lunch sometime? He's pretty good with herbology - you can tell him about that book you've been reading."

"How did you know I've been reading about herbology?'

"Just took a guess," Harry smirked. "You're usually reading something about everything."

She rolled her eyes. "Now you sound like the others. I shouldn't be singled out just because I'm trying to learn."

"Of course not," Harry hastily added. "That's what I'm saying. You should be friends with Neville, that way it will be the two of you against the rest of Gryffindor."

"Gee, thanks."

"Don't mention it. You know… if you ever feel like it's getting to be too much, I could try to help."

He shook her head slowly. "I think that would only make things worse, if I got a Slytherin involved in Gryffindor drama. They already see me as an outsider - that would only make it more so."

"Ok. Well, you can always talk to me if you need to vent."

"I know… thanks," Hermione replied, smiling at Harry.

They spent the rest of the afternoon working side by side. Harry was able to finish the vast majority of his work, except for Friday's transfiguration assignment. It was good enough - he would have time on Monday evening. Towards the end of their study session, he grabbed a glossy Quidditch book from its display shelf in the magical sports section. It was basically a picture-book, which was great because he didn't feel like reading.

"Quidditch?"

"Yeah, I'm trying out for Seeker tomorrow."

"I suppose it makes sense, you are a great flier after all."

"Thanks, I hope Flint feels the same."

"Is he the Slytherin captain?"

Harry nodded. "Would you like to come and watch?"

Hermione bit her lip. "I would like to… but would that be such a good idea - me at the Slytherin tryouts?"

Harry smacked his forehead. "Of course, I'm sorry. My brain feels so fried right now."

"Do you think you will have time for both Quidditch and your classwork? You will probably be just as tired after practices start."

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I can always quit the team if it gets to be too much. I might get murdered by Theo, but whatever."

"I really wish people didn't care so much about Quidditch… That's all most of the Gryffindor boys talk about too."

"I hate to break it to you, but the season hasn't even started yet. It's only going to get worse."

"Sadly, that's probably true. Alright, if you aren't going to study anymore, I might as well stop too. It's almost time for dinner anyway."

They got up, and packed up their school supplies. Harry put the Quidditch book back on its shelf, and they walked out of the library and towards the great hall. The castle felt much more alive now than it had in the morning. Even the inhabitants of the paintings looked more active. On their way, they ran into four Gryffindor boys headed in the same direction. Harry immediately recognized Ron, Dean, and Seamus, and he guessed that the stranger with them was Boris.

"Hello there."

"Hi Ron," Hermione replied in a clipped tone.

"Fraternizing with the enemy?"

"Gee, that's a big word for you."

Ron glowered at her, before turning to the new guy. "See that green badge on his uniform?" Ron pointed a finger at Harry's chest. "Means he's a Slytherin. You should watch your back around them."

Boris raised an eyebrow, turning to Ron in confusion. "Why?"

"Why is he a Slytherin?"

"No, why do I have to be careful around Slytherins."

Harry smirked at Ron. The redhead sputtered for a second before answering. "Because they're crafty… and ambitions… and up to no good."

Boris shrugged. "Two of those three thing don't sound too bad - and I can judge the third by myself, no?"

Dean put his hand on Ron's shoulder. "Let's go mate. I think we've shown him everything we can anyway. It's up to him if he wants to listen to us."

Ron nodded quickly. "Later, Boris." He stepped into the great hall with Dean and Seamus.

The new guy turned to Harry and Hermione. "Hello there, you are in my house, no?" The bushy haired girl nodded.

"Can you tell me what got them so upset? My English isn't the best - I am afraid I may have insulted them."

Hermione tossed her hair, and Harry knew she was getting ready for a rant.

"As a new Gryffindor, you are supposed to have an innate disdain for anybody in a different house - particularly in Slytherin." She turned to Harry. "Slytherins feel the same way about Gryffindors, right?"

Harry tilted his head. He remembered Draco's monologue just after he got sorted. "Yeah, pretty much."

"Anyway, people like Ron take it to the next level, and think that's all there is to Gryffindor, so they base their own self-worth on being as abrasive around Slytherins as they can be. Naturally, anybody that even talks to a Gryffindor is on their hex list."

Boris shook his head slowly, running a finger through his jet black hair. "I thought I would get away from that sort of stuff by coming here. We don't have houses in Drumstrang. Instead, people have feuds over things their families did to each other decades ago."

"That's a shame." Hermione glanced at Harry before turning back to Boris. "Do you want to sit with me for dinner? I am going to join Neville - he doesn't buy into all of the Gryffindor bravado stuff either."

Boris nodded eagerly. "Count me in."

Harry waved a hand with a grin. "I'll be at the Slytherin table plotting evil schemes. It was nice meeting you, Boris. See you later, Hermione."

He made it to the Slytherin table just in time to hear Pansy accuse Draco of avoiding her.

* * *

The next twenty-four hours seemed to drag on forever. Harry spent most of the evening in his room, flipping through his textbooks and trying not to think about the upcoming tryouts. At times like this, he missed living at Privet drive, or more specifically, missed his TV. With electronics rendered useless by the magic permeating throughout Hogwarts, there were very few ways to kill time. He spent Sunday morning flying with Theo, Draco, and even Gregory and Vincent. The latter two boys had picked up some of the Quidditch mania that was spreading through Slytherin ahead of the tryouts. It looked like most of his classmates would be in the stands later, a thought that should have comforted Harry, but only served to put him on edge.

He was barely able to eat anything at lunch. Draco too was paler than usual. At half past one, they waved goodbye to the other first years, who split off to head to the stands. The two tentative Seekers made their way to the shed, and picked out the least crummy brooms they could find. As they walked towards the Quidditch field, they spotted bigger, older students heading the same way - with newer, shinier brooms in hand. Harry felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. It was odd, because he didn't even care that much about Quidditch. He had only learned about the sport for the first time two weeks ago. While being on a broom was fun, he didn't have to be on the team to fly around - he could do so in his free time if he wanted to. On top of that, being Seeker would probably be a huge time sink, and dangerous as well. Nonetheless, he felt extremely anxious as he joined the other prospective team members in a circle around Flint.

"Hello. For those of you who were on the team last year, it's good to be back at Hogwarts, and to see you all again. I'm excited for another season of Quidditch, and undoubtedly another trophy. I hope you haven't been sitting on your asses all summer, because you will be trying out for your positions again this year. For those of you who don't know me, I am the Slytherin captain, and I am here to see if you are worthy of playing for our house."

Harry looked at the faces around him. A couple of the older students - probably returning members - were smiling. The clear majority of the group had had various combinations of grim determination and anxiety painted on their face. There were dozens of people in the stands. He thought he could pick out some of the other first years in the blob of green. Runcorn's red hair stood out, but it was tough to make out any faces from this distance.

"Here's what we are going to do. First, I'll run flying, passing and throwing drills for the Chaser candidates to determine approximate skill levels. Afterwards, I will pick the top six prospects, and split them up into two teams. At this point, we will run scrimmages. Candidates for Beaters and Keepers will be rotated in. You will all be assessed on how well you can perform your specific duty - whether it is scoring shots, blocking them, or knocking people off their brooms. In addition, you will be scored on how well you work with your team-members. For example, a Chaser that takes every shot - even if a teammate is in a better position - will not be scored favorably. The Chaser combinations will be scrambled regularly. In the second half of the scrimmages, we will introduce our Seekers two at a time. There are quite a few of you trying out - particularly for Seeker and Keeper - but everybody will get to partake in at least two scrimmages. I hope you are all well rested, because I booked the pitch for six hours."

Harry groaned internally. He had never been on a broom for that long. While he wouldn't be flying the entire time - and there would certainly be breaks - the prospect was daunting. He took a seat in the lower portions of the stands as Flint ran the preliminary Chaser trials. It was easy to pick out the returning members. They were all fast, accurate, and had a general aura of confidence. The subsequent scrimmages were fun to watch. It was the first-time Harry had seen real Quidditch, although it was rather piecemeal with people being rotated in and out. He winced involuntarily whenever a Beater scored a hit, and found himself cheering at some of the more impressive goals. Before he knew it, it was his turn to take to the skies as a Seeker candidate. Unexpectedly, Flint waved him over.

"Why did you bring Malfoy along?" he asked in a hushed but stern tone.

"He a good Seeker, so I thought you might like to see him try out too."

"You should think less. That's my job as captain. Your job is to catch the snitch, and you better do that so I don't look like a fool for inviting you here today. I'll let Malfoy try out - hell, I practically have to considering his father is on the board of governors. But keep this in mind - next time you pull a stunt like this one, I'll show you just how easy it is to have an 'accident' in Quidditch."

Harry gulped, nodding his head quickly. He mounted his broom and rose above the rest of the players. Flint blew his whistle, and the scrimmage commenced. Watching the match from above was quite different. He was mesmerized by the plays happening below, and almost missed the other Seeker taking off after a blur that he assumed was the snitch. He quickly followed, but it was clear that his opponent was faster, no doubt because of the brand new broom he was riding. Fortunately, he didn't seem to have very good control of it. The snitch made a sharp left, and the other Seeker made a sharp left too - straight into the stands. Harry was moving at a slower speed, so he was able to avoid crashing. After a few seconds, he had the snitch in his hand. Flint blew the whistle, and Harry glided down to the grass.

"Not bad Potter. Malfoy, Stebbins - you two are up next. Everybody else, keep going."

Draco had a bit of a tougher time with his opponent. Like Harry's opponent, Stebbins was older than Draco and had his own broom - also faster than the school brooms the first years were forced to use. Unlike Harry's opponent, Stebbins was cautious, and never went into a dive or a turn without slowing down first. The snitch was rather shy during their scrimmage, and it was only by superior positioning and luck that Draco was able to get enough of a head start to beat Stebbins to the snitch. It didn't hurt that a bludger almost took the older boy off his broom mid-chase. Flint blew his whistle, and sorted out the next match-up. Harry didn't know either of the Seekers so he didn't pay much attention to them, choosing instead to study the Beaters. Thirty minutes later, it was his turn to face off against Draco.


	9. Seeker

Harry rose above the quidditch pitch, stopping at a height of around 30 meters - well above the goalposts. Draco did likewise a short distance away. Meanwhile, Flint blew his whistle and one of the chaser teams launched an offensive. All of them were bigger, and none were shy about throwing an elbow or kicking at anybody that got too close, so Harry was glad that his duty didn't involve going near them. Speaking of duty, Draco was already scanning the surroundings for the telltale golden glimmer of the snitch.

"Tell me when you spot it, OK?"

The blond boy scoffed, and called back "I'll let you know when I catch it." He then spun about on his broom and sped away, stopping just above the center of the field, and went back to searching for the snitch. Harry dodged a bludger that was headed straight for his face, and paused to consider his options. Draco was better when it came to tactics, and had more experience with quidditch than Harry. Chances were that if there was something Harry should be doing, Draco was already doing it. It probably wouldn't be a bad idea to stick close to the other boy. If Draco saw the snitch first, it would come down to who was faster. Harry knew that he had more innate talent on a broom, so he stood a fair chance to win if it boiled down to speed and agility. He slowly drifted towards Draco. The latter turned his broom to face Harry.

"Are you trying to tail me?"

"Maybe. You're pretty good at spotting the snitch, so I think I'll let you do the hard work for me."

Draco squinted his eyes at him. Suddenly, the widened.

"Wait… I think I see it!" Draco shot down at full speed, and Harry followed. It seemed a bit odd that Draco would announce spotting the snitch, so he didn't fully commit to the dive. He was grateful for his own foresight when Draco pulled away mere meters from the ground and Harry came close to eating grass. He followed the other boy back upwards.

"What was that for?"

Draco spun around to face Harry and smirked. "It's called a Wronski feint - it's useful for dislodging annoying tails."

"Didn't seem to do you much good."

"It's difficult to pull off, and I may have oversold spotting the snitch." Draco rose sharply, and Harry followed. He heard cheering from the near goal baskets as Draco's chasers scored, and cursed inwardly. Suddenly, he had an idea. He veered sharply to the left, and pushed his broom as fast as it would go. He heard Draco shout and take off after him. Soon, Harry was a few meters away from the stands. For a split-second, he could make out Theo's gaping face. Immediatly, he pulled upwards as hard as he could on his broom handle, and reversed directions. He spotted Malfoy's upside-down figure moving towards him, and rolled his broomstick until he was right side up once again. He heard a muffled thud behind him, followed by shouting from several different voices. Harry used Draco's momentary incapacitation to fly towards the center of the field. He narrowly missed a couple of chasers headed the opposite way - his ignorance of his surroundings was rewarded with a kick to his broom that sent him spinning for a moment. He quickly righted himself, and started looking around the pitch. He didn't think his heart could beat any faster, but his pulse seemed to double when he spotted a flash of gold soaring above him. Harry launched himself towards the sky, and cursed as he realized that he was flying towards the sun and couldn't see anything. He heard a similar exclamation below him, and realized that Draco had recovered. He veered away, and started flying on a horizontal plane, knowing that the snitch would have to come down eventually.

His intuition turned out to be true when the golden orb shot down towards the ground ten meters to his right. Harry careened in that direction, and dived sharply towards the ground. He spotted Draco moving closer out of the corner of his eye. The blond boy had a grimace on his face, and bumped into Harry, nearly throwing him off course. Harry responded with an elbow to Draco's side. The blond boy doubled over for a second, and Harry tried to will some extra speed out of his broom. The snitch was less than a meter from his outstretched hand, but the ground was quickly approaching. It was now or never. He had to make a choice. He saw Draco bail out of the dive, and he did his best to level out his own broom. Unfortunately, it was too late to do anything other than mitigation. He half-crashed and half-rolled across the grass. A searing pain shot up his right forearm, and he immediately knew he had broken it. At the same time, he felt something hard and smooth in his left hand, and realized that he had caught the snitch. His mind was hazy with pain, but also brimming with an odd sense of satisfaction.

Harry's thoughts were pierced by Flint's whistle, and he spotted a pair of boots land where he was lying. Flint grabbed Harry underneath his left armpit, and hoisted him to his feet. Harry raised the arm bearing the snitch, and a chorus of cheers erupted from the crowd.

"That's what I like to see," Flint proclaimed, clapping Harry on the back. "You follow that snitch wherever it goes, even if it's to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey can heal broken bones, but nobody can save a match once it's lost. Where does it hurt - can you walk alright?"

Harry nodded. "I think my right arm is broken."

The captain shrugged. "It happens to all of us sooner or later. Maybe sooner for you, but you really went all out. It paid off for you though, the seeker position is yours."

Harry raised his eyebrows, and Flint grinned jovially. "That's right, I pick you. Get yourself to the infirmary now. I still have to sort out a backup seeker and a second beater."

Harry nodded his thanks, and walked off towards the stands. He heard the whistle blow, and the stands fell quiet with anticipation once more, punctuated by dull cracks as beater bats struck bludgers. When he reached the edge of the pitch, Theo was already waiting for him. The lanky boy was practically bouncing with excitement.

"That was awesome! What did Flint say to you?"

"He told me I'm the new seeker," Harry replied with a grin. He was still reeling with pain, but Theo's excitement was contagious.

"Let me walk you to the infirmary. Tell me, where did you learn that inverted break-away?"

* * *

Harry spent the rest of the evening recovering in the hospital ward. According to Madam Pomfrey, he was lucky in that he had only suffered a clean break in one of the bones of his forearm. Harry tried not to think of what an unlucky quidditch incident meant, and did his best to swallow the potion she fed him. It was without a doubt the most dreadful thing he had ever tasted.

The first year Slytherins came to visit him. Some - like Vincent, Greggory, and the girls - stuck around for a few minutes. Draco on the other hand stayed for nearly half an hour, and filled Harry in on what had happened after he had left. Apparently, the tryouts had gone on for another two hours. The beaters were all returning starters from the previous year, along with two of the chasers. The third chaser had been on the reserve team the previous year, but had found a way to put on twenty pounds of muscle over the summer. Draco insisted he had performed dark rituals, but Harry was hesitant to believe him. The keeper was brand new to the quidditch team - only a second-year student - and probably the weakest link. Even so, he seemed capable enough judging by the saves he had made throughout the scrimmages.

Draco had secured the reserve seeker spot. Harry wasn't surprised, but he didn't have to feign excitement for his friend. It would be nice to have somebody he knew at the practices with him. The blond boy seemed miffed to not be a starter, but Harry didn't sense any outright resentment directed at himself. Draco left after giving his rundown of the tryouts, and Harry took a much-needed nap. He was shaken awake by Madam Pomfrey, who took a long look at his forearm - complete with incantations and prodding - before clearing him to leave.

After returning to his room, he spent an hour trying to make a dent in his transfiguration essay. Just as he felt like he was on a roll, a knock at the door broke the silence. With a weary sigh, Harry got up and pulled it open. To his surprise, it was Flint.

"Hey Harry, I just wanted to check how you are doing."

"Wow, thanks. I feel good. Whatever Madam Pomfrey gave me to drink seems to have worked."

Flint made a face. "Skelegro. Damn, that stuff tastes like rot. I'm glad to hear you're ok. Another thing - me and a couple of the guys are having a season kick-off outing at Hogsmead tonight. There's going to be butterbeer and girls. You coming?"

"Um… that sounds awesome, but I'm probably not allowed to go… you know, since I'm a first year."

"Oh man, that's right. No Hogsmead until third year. Tell you what, I'll bring back a bottle for you."

"Thanks, but you don't have to do that."

"Even better… I'll drink one in your honor. See you at the first practice then - 6:00AM Tuesday morning. Oh, and look into getting a new broom. As seeker, you get an exemption from the firstie broom ban." Flint started walking backwards.

"I'll do that. Have a good night."

Flint thumped his chest with his fist, and then pointed at Harry before spinning on his heels and walking away. Harry closed the door and shook his head. That entire interaction had felt positively strange. He started to ask himself what he had signed up for, but then decided to spare his sanity and go back to his transfiguration homework. He made it halfway through the assignment before calling it a night.

When Harry woke up the next morning, he couldn't help smiling. First, his arm felt completely normal, apart from the slightest numbness where the break had been. It was truly incredible what magic could do. Second, the day's agenda consisted of charms with the 'puffs, DADA with Gryffindor, and potions with Ravenclaw - his three favorite classes. Professor Flitwick had them working on more advanced use of the levitation charm. He had set up hoops around the classroom, and they were to guide a quaffle through each of the hoops. It turned out to be quite tricky. Levitating a feather was one thing, but a ball was much heavier. On top of that, Harry had to focus on moving it in three different planes rather than just up and down as with the feather.

By the end of the class, he was able to complete the full circuit through the hoops, one of only two students to do so. Oddly enough, the other student was one of the Hufflepuffs. Just as Harry was about to step out of the door, the tiny professor spoke up.

"Harry, could I have a word with you for a moment?"

"Of course, professor." Harry sidestepped, clearing the way so that his classmates could leave, and then turned to face Flitwick.

"Have you been practicing your spell work on your own? You have come quite far over the past two weeks."

"I did loads of training with professor Jones last week, but none with the levitation charm specifically."

"I suppose your gains in stamina and focus have carried over. Nonetheless, your control over the levitation charm is quite promising. I was impressed by your performance against this past Friday. Knowledge of charms is very useful in a duel, you know."

Harry nodded. He could see how levitating an object in front of a curse would be a practical way to protect himself - although there would only be a split second window to do so.

"I know sir. We only had enough time to prepare a couple of spells. I focused mainly on learning the disarming charm."

Professor Flitwick waved his hand. "Yes, and a fine job you did. If Hestia succeeds in reestablishing the dueling club, you can always come to me for help with charms. I was the national dueling champion for a couple of years after I graduated from Hogwarts, not to mention captain of the team while I still attended."

"Thank you, sir. That would be terrific."

Harry just barely made it to DADA before the bell rang. Shortly after, professor Jones announced that the topic of the day would be the disarming charm. Harry already knew the spell quite well, as did Draco. During the practice portion of the class, Jones had them go around the room helping their classmates. The Slytherins seemed to be doing alright. It was one of the generic spells taught taught by most tutors, so the professor had them pair off and take turns disarming each other. The Gryffindor's had a tougher time - less than half of them had ever been tutored. Hermione knew the theory pat, but she had issues with putting enough power into the spell. Boris was one of the few that had prior lessons, so he helped her out. Meanwhile, Harry focused on helping Neville - who was repeatedly blasting his partner off her feet, sometimes with her wand and sometimes without. By the end of the class, he had managed to help the other boy wrest some control over the spell.

In potions, Snape had them depart from their usual curriculum and focus on preparing the ingredients that some of the older students would need for a potion alter that day. To Harry, it felt like the man was just using them as free labor. Nonetheless, he did as he was told. At least a couple of the Ravenclaws seemed to be having a good time, entertaining each other with random trivia about the various ingredients. Harry still couldn't believe Hermione hadn't been sent to that house.

After the end of the class, Snape launched into a tirade and told him to stay behind for detention. Theo seemed puzzled by what Harry might have done to earn one - the ingredient preparation had been tedious, but also fairly easy. After all, Snape wouldn't have left it to first years if it wasn't. Harry knew that the detention was just cover for another occlumency lesson, so he made up something on the fly to placate the other boy. As soon as the other students were gone, Snape eased up a bit.

"Did you pick Draco for the duel, or was it Jones?"

"The professor did, what did you think?"

The potions master sneered. "I thought it was incredibly boring to watch. Regardless, you did better than I would have expected you to. Or maybe Draco did worse."

Harry frowned, but didn't respond. After a brief pause, Snape resumed speaking. "As you have probably guessed, the reason I asked you to stay behind was for your occlumency lesson. Seeing as how you are a duelist now, I think I'll add another dimension to it." He flicked his wand subtly, and Harry felt a sharp stinging on his left arm. He was raising his own wand when the professor cast the legilimency spell. As before, nothing happened, and Harry cast a disarming jinx at the professor. The man wordlessly batted it into the floor.

"That's reassuring. Your immunity to legilimency remains intact even when in pain or while casting. Regardless, you have no control over these defenses, and there is so much more to the mind arts than fending off a legilimency attack. Tell me, how are your meditative exercises coming along?"

Harry rubbed his arm as he reflected on the past week. "To tell you the truth sir, I haven't been keeping up. Between preparing for the duel and getting ready for quidditch tryouts, I haven't had the time."

"Do you really think you will have more time in the future - perhaps when you have to play matches and attend weekly practices? How about if the dueling club is approved? Will that lighten your schedule?" The professor crossed his arms. "You have to prioritize what is important to you, and do a better job of managing your time. The mind arts are not for the faint of heart. I'll give you a week to think it over - until then, get out of my sight."

Snape turned around and walked back to his desk. Harry stood there for half a minute, but the man was pointedly ignoring him, so he left the room. Harry thought about what the professor had said, and found himself agreeing. He didn't want any more legilimency outbursts like the one with Draco, so it was important to him that he continue his training with Snape. At the same time, it was pointless to do so if he didn't have the time for the exercises he was assigned. He had to be better with his time.

* * *

Harry pulled his pillow over his head. He just wanted the knocking to stop. He had spent the previous evening finishing his charms essay with Hermione, along with explaining to her how he had broken his arm and why he wasn't an idiot by staying on the team after such an injury. A minute later, and the knocking - now muffled by the pillow - showed no signs of stopping. Harry got up and swung open the door. He was met by an angry Draco.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?"

Harry shook his head, trying to dispel the grogginess. "Umm… it's not even first bell yet. Why are you knocking on my door?"

"Quidditch practice, you dimwit! It's 5:45AM - we're going to be late. You're the starting seeker, so I shouldn't have to remind you."

Harry felt his heart skip a beat. He couldn't believe he had forgotten about it. After a minute of hurriedly tossing on clothing, he joined Draco, who was already half-running down the corridor.

"Did you oversleep your alarm or something?"

"Alarm? I thought electronics don't work in Hogwarts?"

"You do realize there are magical devices that can wake people up, right? I can't believe you don't own one. How have you been getting along for the past two weeks?"

"Theo usually wakes me up. Either that, or I get up with the 7:30 bell and am at class by eight. I've never had to get up so early before."

Draco shook his head. "I can't believe what I'm hearing. I know what you're getting for Christmas. Until then, I'll make sure you wake up in time for practice."

They eventually made it to the broom shed, and then to the quidditch pitch. Flint and the rest of the team were already circling above. As Harry and Draco neared the center of the pitch, the captain blew his whistle and descended towards them. He landed a couple of meters away, and the rest of the team followed suit, forming a semicircle around him.

"So, you two decided to show up. You're in luck - first practice of the season has me in a good mood. I'll let your lateness slide just this once and introduce you to the team." Flint gestured at each of the boys in turn. "We've got Adrian as one of our chasers, Cassius as our second, and myself as the third. There's also Peregrine and Lucian as our beaters. Miles is the keeper, and you, Harry, are our seeker. As far as backups, we have Nathan, Graham, and Draco." The boys grinned as Flint called them off one by one. "You may be wondering why we need three backups. Well, this year I'm going to be trying some more 'aggressive' plays, so some of you might be crippled or killed in the line of duty. I'm just joking. Or am I?" Some of the team members paled at that, but Lucian and Peregrine just seemed to get more excited.

"Now that the formalities are out of the way, let's run some drills. Miles, you're going to be protecting those goal posts over there. Nathan and Graham are going to be helping you out as defending chasers. Meanwhile, me, Adrian, and Cassius are going to be attacking. Got it?" The boys all nodded.

"Lucian… Peregrine… your jobs are to knock anybody and everybody you can off their brooms, starting with the attacking chasers." Perigrine smacked his beater's bat into his off-hand. "Harry, Draco, the two of you will have fifteen minutes to catch the snitch after I free it. If neither of you manages it, you get to run two laps around the pitch and try again." Harry nodded and took to the skies. Soon after, Flint released the snitch and the bludgers.

For the next ten minutes, Harry tried his hardest to find the snitch. He didn't particularly want to run laps - and neither did Draco - so they decided to work together, each of them covering half of the pitch. Ten minutes in, he sighted it near one of the stands, and alerted the other seeker to its presence. They raced for it, but Harry was better positioned and got to it first without a problem. Meanwhile, Flint and the two starters besides him were doing their best to score. It was clear that they made a good chaser team, but the two beaters were even better at what they did. When Harry shouted at Flint that they had caught the snitch, the older boy looked relieved to call a pause. He instructed the seekers to try again - this time without a time limit. However, he did instruct one of the beaters to harass them with a bludger.

This went on for around an hour. By the time Flint called an end to the practice, Harry was sporting a few bruises - courtesy of Peregrine. After a quick shower, Harry headed to the kitchen for some breakfast before their first class of the day. Most of the Slytherins were already there, and Draco took satisfaction in describing the practice to Theo, complete with a description of Peregrine as a shaved gorilla. Tracy interrupted Draco's monologue to proclaim that it was extremely unfair that there weren't any girls on the team. Draco pointed out that none had tried out. Pansy said that she agreed with him, and Draco promptly switched sides to say that Tracy had a point.

Meanwhile, Harry noticed that Hermione, Neville and Boris were all sitting together at the Gryffindor table. He was glad that they got along with each other. Hopefully being part of a group would deter other Gryffindors from picking on any one of them.

* * *

As Dumbledore read the letter before him, he found himself mildly surprised. It was very unlike Lucius to agree with him on anything - ever. In this case, the Malfoy patriarch was firmly in support of reinstating the dueling club. Albus found himself wondering if the man simply wanted a better recruitment pool should Tom make a return, but quickly tossed aside the idea as just another manifestation of his own cynicism. It was more likely that Lucius was merely fond of his own days in the dueling club, and wanted the same for his son. Perhaps the boy had even written to his father begging him to vote in support. Regardless of motivations, the vote to reinstate the club had passed eight to four. Normally Dumbledore liked to have unanimous agreement when it came to school matters. His own vote, the thirteenth, was reserved for tie-breaking, and he did not like using it since it always made six people angry at him. Nonetheless, he recognized that dueling was very polarizing for most people, and as such was happy he got eight people to agree.

He placed aside the letter. "Fawkes, could you fetch Hestia please?"

The phoenix flapped its wings, and vanished in a small burst of fire. Moments later, the fireplace ignited and the DADA professor stepped out through the green flames. "You called, headmaster?"

"Call me Albus, please. I have received reply from the board of governors. They have voted to reinstate the dueling club. Congratulations."

"That's fantastic! I will begin preparing right away. Thank you for your support!"

Albus smiled at the woman, really a girl to one as old as he was. "Of course. Would you like to remind me how you envision organizing the club?"

Hestia smiled back, and began rattling off her plans. "I will host evening practices twice a week, and small tournament every other Sunday. There will be three ranked ladders, one for first and second years, another for third and fourth years, and a fifth for fifth through seventh year students. I have woven dueling-related material into my class lesson plans, while also covering the ministry mandated material of course."

The headmaster nodded in agreement. "It seems like I made a good decision in appointing you to your post, your plans are quite extensive. Have you thought about asking another professor to assist you with the practices?"

"Yes, I have. I was thinking about asking Severus. Well… I actually asked him already, but he didn't take me seriously the first time around. I imagine having official approval to start the club will make him come around."

"Severus is skilled in dueling. However, he is also quite busy. In addition to teaching potions, he must prepare medicines for the infirmary, conduct research, and work on a handful of other projects. Might I recommend Filius? He is even more experienced then Severus when it comes to dueling. In fact, he was the national dueling champion in his youth."

As Dumbledore finished speaking, he noticed that Hestia seemed a bit crestfallen. This worried him. Every now and then, a woman would show interest in Severus, and he would proceed to turn her down - typically directly and in a manner that bred resentment. Sometimes, it was one of the seventh-year students. In those cases, he entirely supported Severus' actions, albeit he wished he could let them down with a bit more tact. In this case it was a professor. While it wasn't as taboo, a professor dating another professor would create all kinds of drama within the staff if the relationship was to fall apart. Albus would probably have to ask one of them to resign, and it would have to be Hestia since Snape would be far more difficult - if not impossible - to replace. He would have to keep a close eye on the two and see if his suspicions were correct.

"Um yes… of course. Filius sounds like he would be a great choice. I will talk to him first thing tomorrow. Thank you again for making this possible!" Hestia bowed, and Albus tipped his head down in recognition of her gratitude. The DADA professor turned about, and disappeared back through the floo. Dumbledore sank back into his chair with a sigh. He wondered how much extra work he had created for himself by facilitating the reinstatement of the dueling club.


	10. Defense

As soon as the flames had cleared from his vision, Dumbledore took in his surroundings. The terrain around him was studded with small boulders, and frighteningly steep. Greenery and small shrubs rose halfway to his knees, but the land was barren of trees or any significant vegetation. Fawkes cooed softly, and Dumbledore stroked the phoenix's back.

"Yes, I'm afraid this may take a while. You may head on back to my office – I will call for you when it is time for me to return."

Fawkes dipped his head, and vanished in a blaze of flames. Dumbledore freed his wand from his pocket, and apparated to a better vantage point. He now stood on top of the nearby peak. From his new position, he could see a small village in an adjacent valley. The architecture of the homes – stone houses with tiled roofs – was a stark reminder that he was no longer in Britain.

There was more vegetation down in the valley than on the surrounding mountainsides. In fact, much of it looked to be cultivated. Dumbledore decided he should take a closer look, so he apparated to the middle of a field at the base the mountain. Now that he stood closer, he recognized the plants as a muggle herb long banned by Flitch. He made his way through the field and towards the center of the village. As he approached the houses, the quality of the air began to change. The crisp mountain air was now polluted by a hint of smoke, and an even fainter trace of the sickly-sweet odor of rotting flesh. He gripped his wand more tightly, and slowed his cadence to a cautious walk.

He had spent most of the morning analyzing the subtle magics impressions left behind by Quirrel on the letter, and had determined that it had originated in this place – or very close to it. Now that he was here, Dumbledore was puzzled. It was an odd location for a vampire coven. The area was secluded, which was a plus, but the village looked far too small to support any significant number of vampires. More likely, a nomadic group had moved through the area. This set of warning bells in the headmaster's head. Nomads were usually far more dangerous than established vampire covens. The later had to be careful not to give away their presence to the muggles, and went to great pains to cover their tracks and preserve their food supply. The nomads didn't stick around, so they could and often were extremely brutal. They had been outlawed by the international wizarding community, and the last nomadic clan in Britain had been hunted down in the 16th century. Every now and then, a rogue vampire would try to establish a new clan, but they were quickly hunted down and eliminated by the aurors. In other parts of the world, and evidently in Albania, the nomadic clans had more leeway.

The stench grew stronger as Dumbledore neared the center of the town. He spotted a house with a shattered door, and stepped through the doorway. Bulletholes lined the wall behind him, and steel casings littered the floor. The sheer number was consistent with muggle automatic weaponry – a threat Dumbledore had come to respect during the war against Grindelwald. He raised his wand in front of him, and crept up the stairs. He encountered a corpse on the second floor. It was charred beyond recognition – it's fingerless hands clutched around a scorched mass of metal that appeared to have been a Kalashnikov. Evidently, the vampires had burnt the corpses to prevent their reanimation. That was reassuring – at least they were not completely devoid of reason.

Dumbledore made his way back to the first floor, and stepped back onto the street. He searched the rest of the houses one-by-one, coming across more incinerated bodies. As he was stepping into the next to last house, a noise alerted him to another presence. He whirled about just as a figure pounced from behind the door. Dumbledore slashed his wand across his chest, and a torrent of air threw the figure backwards. It rose to its feet in an instant, snarling, its eyes bloodshot and dilated. A fledgling vampire – female by the looks of it – crazed with thirst. Her body was racked with bruises and scratches. It was silly to think she had fought off the vampires before they could torch her, but something had stopped them nonetheless. Dumbledore quickly stepped back out the door. The vampire tried to follow, but screamed as soon as the sunlight touched her skin. He used the brief distraction to cast a wordless incarcerous – binding her from limbs against her body and sending her to the floor. Immediately after, he transfigured the rope to steel.

The vampire snarled and gnashed her teeth as she struggled against the unyielding bonds. Meanwhile, Dumbledore scanned the rest of the room for more vampires, and cast a wide-range revealing charm as extra precaution. Assured that there was nothing else in a 50-meter radius, he looked more closely at the surroundings. There were no bullet holes in this home. Instead, massive chunks of stone were blown out of the floor, walls, and even the ceiling. Dumbledore recognized them as impact craters from blasting charms, and strong ones at that. He walked to one such crater and closed his eyes, placing his hand against the wall. Quirrel. It was unmistakable – the exact same magical signature as the one on the letter. He took a step back, and turned to face the vampire. She was quiet now, staring at him with bulging eyes.

"Would you care to explain what happened here?"

She snarled once more, the black veins in her neck popping as she strained against the steel binding. Dumbledore sighed. He knew that was too much to hope for. Locking eyes with the vampire, he cast the legilimency spell. Normally, he took a more passive approach to mind-reading, but it would take quite a bit of power to break through the blood frenzy and into her memories from before she had been turned. Clenching his jaw, he probed deeper. Images flooded through his mind. As he had suspected, this was a farming village, albeit their crop was of the illegal variety. That would explain the weapons. There had been an attack. At first, she had thought it was a feuding gang, but began to realize something was very wrong when the attackers had swept through the village with ease, shrugging off bullet wounds that should have been lethal. The nature of the attackers had become crystal clear when one of them sank its fangs into her neck. The vampire had been interrupted when a man burst through the door, brandishing a wooden stick. The vampire had lurched towards the man, but the latter had managed to repel it with something she couldn't define, but Albus knew to be magic. Quirrel had slain the vampire, but not before sustaining a bite.

Dumbledore thought about what he should do next. Undoubtedly, one of his actions would be alerting the international wizarding federation to the existence of this vampire clan. They would send squads out to track down and exterminate the creatures. As for the woman, he would look into having one of the regulated British covens take her in. They could teach her the rules that she would need to follow in order to coexist with wizards and muggles. As for Quirrel, the way forward was clear. He shared the same sire as the vampire Dumbledore had captured, so a sample of her blood could be used by Severus to track down Quirrel's location. The potions needed for the tracking ritual would take several weeks before they were ready, so Dumbledore could only hope that Quirell could keep his thirst in check until then.

With a sigh, Dumbledore flicked his wand and levitated the woman towards himself. He signaled Fawkes through their bond, and the phoenix appeared in a blaze of flames. Seconds later, the trio were in the atrium of the International Confederation of Wizards headquarters. Miraculously, only one of the receptionists fainted at the sight of the vampire.

* * *

Snape stabbed his steak with a fork, perhaps more forcefully than necessary. Besides him, Filius and Hestia were discussing their plans for the dueling club. Jones seemed to be talking more loudly than usual, and her excitement only served to worsen Snape's mood. He wasn't sure why he cared. After all, he didn't want to spend any more time around snot-nosed students than he contractually had to. Yet despite this, he couldn't help feeling slightly jealous of Flitwick. Hestia should have come to him if she needed somebody to help with the practices. The fact that he didn't want to help her was besides the point.

The entire weekend had turned on its head the previous day when Albus had stopped by the dungeons. The headmaster needed a tracking potion. Not just any tracking potion, but the highly complex kind that only a few wizards in Britain could brew. At least the old man had sounded apologetic. He was no doubt aware exactly how much work he had just saddled on the potions master. Just the ingredient prep would take two weeks, and the potion brewing itself another couple of weeks in a best-case scenario. Snape was fuming before he even sat down for dinner. Hestia's veiled provocation further soured his mood.

He listened to Jones and Flitwick blabber on for over half an hour. When their conversation was over and Jones made to leave the great hall, Snape approached her discretely. "Jones, can I have a moment?"

She stopped walking, and turned to face him, her hands on her hips. "Have you come to apologize?"

"Not here... follow me out." Snape stepped out through one of the doors near the head table. It led to a small room that was typically off-limits to students - it was were the professors would gather before entering the great hall on feast nights or special occasions. At this time, it was deserted. Hestia followed behind, her arms crossed against her chest. Snape locked the door behind them, and turned to face her. "What do you mean, 'apologize'?"

"APOLO-GIZE. For mocking me when I asked you to help me out with the dueling club."

Snape frowned, a little offended that she felt she was owed an apology. "Spare me your bruised ego… I had no way of knowing you could actually pull it off."

She raised an eyebrow.

"It was your first week of teaching. The dueling club has chewed up far more experienced professors; after all, it is a nightmare to organize. It was only logical to assume Dumbledore would deny your request."

"Wow, thanks for that impressive display of wit..." Hestia muttered, rolling her eyes. "What do you want?"

"I want to know why you backed out of having me as your co-instructor."

"You mean besides you laughing at me the first time I asked you? Why do you even care? I thought you didn't want the job."

"I don't. I just think I should be offered the position in case I **do** want it."

Hestia threw her hands in the air. "You are impossible. You know why I didn't ask you a second time? I have it on good authority that Flitwick is better with his wand." Hestia smirked at Snape. She drew her wand, and countered the locking charm on the door.

Snape turned slightly red, and whipped his head around to see if anybody had heard. Fortunately, there were no students in sight. Meanwhile, Hestia was half-way out the door. Snape took a step after her. "I'm not done talking to you."

"Oh, I think we're finished here," Hestia called back.

Snape scowled after her as he followed out into the great Hall. He would find a way to show her what she was missing out on - tutoring Potter seemed like an opportune way to do this. Contrary to Snape's initial expectations, the boy was quite gifted with magic. With the proper guidance, he had the potential to be the best in his class. That would show Hestia what a real DADA teacher could do.

Moments after Snape had left the room, a painting in a dimly lit corner shifted to the side revealing a passageway. A pair of red haired figures stepped out, and the silence was broken by an enthusiastic high-five.

* * *

Twenty minutes into the first dueling practice, Harry realized that something would have to change. He already sported a collection of bruises from a week's worth of quidditch practices. Getting knocked around by dueling partners on top of the bludgers he already had to deal with was just too much. He was one of the top first years, but their collective spell repertoire lacked any good defensive options apart from dodging. He was jigged out of his thoughts by his dueling partner.

"Harry?"

"Right, let's do this."

He took a ready stance across from Neville, his knees slightly bent and shoulder width apart; prepared to maneuver out of the way at a split second's notice. He let the other boy cast first, and managed to sidestep his disarming charm. Harry responded with a disarming charm of his own, but his aim was thrown off when another duelist knocked into him. With a dozen duels going on at the same time, it was a common occurrence. Jones did nothing to stop it, claiming aurors trained in a similar way to replicate the chaos of real life magical combat. Just as Harry was about to regain his balance, he was blasted off his feet by Neville's knockback jinx. While the Gryffindor had come a long way in toning down the power behind his spells, it still hurt quite a bit. Harry rolled out of the fall, and cast a tickling jinx at Neville. While the other boy was shaking with laughter, Harry followed up with a disarming charm.

Jones kept them at it for half an hour until nearly every student was exhausted both physically and magically. Harry felt a bit relieved in that he was in slightly better shape than the rest of the duelists. He wondered if it was the quiditch training paying off. It didn't seem like a week's worth of practices could be paying off so soon. At any rate, Harry's mind was made up. He would ask Flitwick to teach him some better defensive measures after the next day's charms class. It would probably eat up even more of his time, but he enjoyed dueling and knowing how to block spells would make it even more fun.

After a quick dinner, Harry headed over to the library and sat down at his usual table with Hermione. She seemed to be doing better – encouraging her to befriend Neville and Boris had been a good move. After they finished their history of magic essay, he asked her where the two boys were. She scrunched her face.

"They hardly ever come here. Most of the time, they do their homework in the common room."

"I see. It's the same with Draco and Theo. Have you tried persuading them?"

"No. I know I can be pushy sometimes, so I'm trying to give them some space."

Harry nodded. He had noticed the change in her behavior. He wondered what had brought it about, but couldn't think of any way to ask without sounding like a muggle psychologist.

"That's good. They will probably come around when our classes get tougher. I'm kind of surprised by how slowly most of them are moving. It feels like we have been learning the disarming charm for two weeks now in DADA."

Hermione bobbed her head rapidly. "I completely agree. I wish the professors would pick up the pace. I said as much in the common room yesterday, and Seamus threw a book at me."

"Umm… you may want to keep this between us. I don't think many other people want extra schoolwork."

"Do you think we should tell the professors what we think?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't think they would change the class just for us, but if you want, you could probably ask them for guidance on learning stuff outside of class."

"Have you tried that before?"

"Professor Jones helped Draco and I work on our dueling skills so that we could help pitch the club to the faculty."

"Oh, so that's why you were reading up on dueling a couple of weeks ago?"

"Yeah."

"She seems nice – I think I will talk to her."

"Just don't do it in earshot of any of the Gryffindors," Harry quickly added.

* * *

When Harry walked into the potions classroom on Wednesday morning, he immediately noticed that Snape was in a foul mood. He winced internally – class was never pleasant when the potions master was like this. He prediction turned out to be true. For the next hour, Snape was like a hawk. Not even the slightest error could slip by without the potions master swooping down on the poor first-year in question. Harry made it to the end of the class without incurring the man's wrath, but he was told to stay behind anyway. Snape waited until the rest of the students had cleared out of the room before addressing him.

"Potter. You were at the dueling practice yesterday, correct?"

"Yes sir."

Snape crossed his arms. "What was it like?"

Harry paused for a moment. He wasn't sure what the potions master was getting at. When he held Harry after class, it was usually for occlumency training, but he couldn't see what this conversation had to do with that.

"Umm, it was alright. Kind of fun. I'm a bit ahead from the preparation I did for the exhibition. I wish I knew some defensive spells though. Between quidditch and dueling I feel like a human punching bag…"

Harry trailed off as he noticed that Snape wasn't paying attention. "The exhibition…yes." The professor turned to look at Harry. "How committed are you to improving your defense?"

"I'm pretty certain I want to. I was thinking of asking professor Flitwick to help me."

Snape's clenched his jaw slightly before assuming his blank stare once more. "Don't do that – I will help you." The man began to pace back and forth. "The shielding charm is a versatile piece of magic. Most adult wizards have some token measure of competency over it, but few achieve mastery. As you will learn, casting the shield is challenging. Maintaining it for any length of time, more difficult. Doing so under spellfire – that is the true test. Not to mention that some spells hit harder than others, and a number of them can bypass a shielding charm entirely."

Harry began to doubt himself. He tried to speak, but Snape kept talking over him. "Now, you are a first year, so nobody will expect you to even be able to cast the charm in the first place. With my help, you may be able to prove them wrong." Snape paused for a moment, looking at Harry expectantly.

"I would greatly appreciate that, professor."

"You should. However, you will have to do something for me."

Harry knew this was too good to be true. "I'm listening."

"I want you to be my eyes and ears inside the dueling club. You can fill me in on what happens when we have our weekly occulumency sessions. In addition, if you succeed in learning the spell, you will tell Jones that I was the one that taught it to you."

That didn't sound so bad to Harry. In fact, it barely required any effort on his part, and he saw no reason to hide who had taught him the spell. As far as informing Snape of what went on in the dueling club – it wasn't exactly a secret in the first place.

"I'll do it."

"Good. We can begin now. Let's start off with some occulumency exercise. You will find that there are parallels between blocking mental attacks and blocking spells…"

* * *

The week was almost over when Harry remembered that he had promised to pay Hagrid a visit. In fact, they had agreed to meet the previous week, but with all of the quidditch excitement, he had completely forgotten. As soon as he finished his dinner on Thursday, he walked towards Hagrid. The half giant was just leaving the staff table, and turned to face him as he approached.

"Evenin' Harry!"

"Hello Hagrid. I'm sorry I forgot to visit last week. I was wondering if I could drop by today?"

The groundskeeper grinned widely. "Don' worry, now's a good a time as any. Why don' you come on over, I can put some tea on. I baked some rock cakes las' week, but I reckon they are still good."

The half-giant began walking towards the main entrance of the castle. His stride was so large that Harry nearly had to jog to keep up. It was nearly dark outside, but there was still enough light to make out the cabin next to the forbidden forest. When Hagrid opened the door, they were greeted by a huge dog. Harry's heart skipped a beat when the beast rushed at him, but his fear proved to be unwarranted.

"Don' mind him, tha's Fang. He's real friendly."

Harry cautiously maneuvered around the dog that was feverishly trying to lick his face. The interior of the cabin was quite cozy. A large bed occupied one half of the room, and a big table and kitchenette the other. There was a plate of pastries on the table, and Hagrid offered them to him. Harry took one of the smaller cakes, and took a bite. Or rather, he tried to take a bite. They were rock hard! He wondered if he could persuade Hermione to have her parents check on his teeth pro-bono. When Hagrid turned around to put the tea on the fire, Harry held out the rock-cake. Fang took it, laid down under the table, and got to gnawing.

"How 'as school been fer you so far?"

"Fantastic. The classes are all great, and I've gotten involved in quidditch and dueling."

Hagrid beamed at him. "Not jus' involved it seems. I've heard yer the new seeker for the Slytherin Quiditch team!"

Harry smiled back, his cheeks slightly red. "Yeah, I was surprised I made it on."

"Nonsense, yer a champion, just like yer dad. Let me dig up that old photo album."

True to Hagrid's word, the album contained several pictures of his parents. In one of them, they were surrounded by a group of other people, including Dumbledore and Hagrid. Harry assumed this was the order of the phoenix that Dumbledore had referenced when he showed him his memories. In another picture, Harry's parents were by themselves. In a third, Lily – no – mom, was holding a baby. With the figures in the pictures moving, it almost felt like they were still alive. Harry looked at the last photo for a few minutes.

"Why don't you hold on to that one, Harry." Hagrid removed the picture from the album, and placed it on the table. Harry picked it up, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

"Thanks, Hagrid. This means a lot to me."

"Of course, 'arry. I think I'll put the rest of 'em together in a little album for ya. Shoul' be ready by Christmas." The groundskeeper walked over to the table, and poured them both some tea. Over the next half hour, they talked about quidditch, the forbidden forest, and a whole host of other topics. Harry felt oddly comfortable around Hagrid. The half-giant seemed like the most genuinely happy person he had ever met.


	11. Icarus Rising

Harry began to feel anxious as October drew nearer. It was almost time for his first quiditch match. Flint was pushing the team harder each practice, but everyone was too nervous about the upcoming match to complain. Even Draco was abnormally quiet during Tuesday morning's practice. After a series of brutal agility drills marked the conclusion of Flint's agenda, the two boys made their way to the great hall for breakfast. It felt strange to be around a quiet Draco, so Harry broke the silence.

"How do you think we'll do this Sunday?"

It took Draco several second to respond – the stillness was accented by the rhythmic thud of their footsteps on the stone floor of the hallway. Their practices were so early that much of the school was only just waking up.

"I don't know… I hope we will win."

"Come on, that sounds awfully cautious. Where is your Slytherin pride?"

Draco looked aside at Harry as they walked, his forehead furrowed with worry beneath his slicked back hair. "I am proud to be a Slytherin, but it's better to worry now and be proud later than the other way around, no?"

"Why not be proud now, and proud later?" Harry asked with a grin.

"Father is coming to see the match this Sunday. In order to feel proud, I'll have to show him something worthy. That's kind of tough since I won't get to play. I'm only a sub, remember? Unless somebody gets sick before the match, I'll be in the stands."

Harry cringed slightly as he recalled that he was the one that had beat Draco to the seeker spot. "Don't worry about it. With Flint's latest plays, it's practically guaranteed that we'll have multiple injuries. You won't get to play this time, but sooner or later, you're bound to see some action."

Draco punched him in the shoulder lightly. "I don't need your sympathy, Potter. I'll settle for us winning the match, even if I don't get to play. So make sure that happens, OK?"

"As you wish, Lord Malfoy."

The great hall was fairly empty when they got there, but Tracey and Runcorn were already sitting at the first year Slytherin table. Harry and Draco made their way over to join them. As they drew nearer, their conversation came into earshot.

"I don't believe you, Tracey. Prefects, I'd understand. But professors?"

Tracey appeared scandalized at the challenge. "You can look for yourself if you'd like. Or you can ask somebody else. I bet half the school has heard by now."

"What are you two talking about?"

The girls turned towards Draco. Tracey grinned mischievously.

"Sweet Merlin, you wouldn't believe what I saw on the way here this morning."

The two boys sat down at the table, and Harry tapped his plate for some scrambled eggs. Draco leaned forward towards Tracey. "I'm listening."

"I was walking towards the grand staircase, and I saw a group of kids standing by the potions classroom. I went over to see what they would looking at, and you wouldn't believe what I saw."

Draco pinched his eyebrows. "Just tell me already, I don't have all day."

"Ok. I'll tell you right now… for a galleon."

Draco narrowed his eyes slightly. "How about you tell me right now, and I won't tell Harry what happened back at your birthday party last year."

Tracey turned crimson and quickly continued her story. "As I was saying, there were like ten people standing outside Snape's classroom. They were all looking at the patch of wall to the right of the door." Tracey paused once more.

"Why?" Draco prompted in a weary voice. Harry stopped chewing for a second and looked up at Tracey. He normally wasn't one for the daily breakfast gossip, but this sounded juicy.

"There was a huge heart drawn on the wall in gold paint! And there were initials inside the heart. S.S. and H.J. The S.S. is obviously Severus Snape given the location of the graffiti. We're not as sure about H.J, but it's probably professor Jones."

Harry dropped his fork. Tracey turned towards him, a questioning look on her face.

"It's nothing… I just remembered I forgot to finish my charms homework," he lied quickly. Draco glanced at him suspiciously, but Tracey continued her story.

"Anyway, I'm pretty sure professor Snape and professor Jones have a thing for each other."

"Why, just because somebody drew a giant heart with their initials in it?" Draco asked mockingly.

"Well yeah, why would this mysterious artist lie? I mean Snape is one of the most hated professors outside Slytherin, but I don't think somebody outside our house would be able to navigate the dungeons at night undetected."

Draco shrugged as he took a bite out of an apple. Tracey turned towards Harry. "What do you think?"

Harry shrugged like Draco, and quickly shoveled a chunk of eggs in his mouth. Fortunately, Daphne chose that moment to make her entrance, and Tracey shifted her attention to the newcomer. The rest of the Slytherin first years drifted in over the next fifteen minutes, and by the time he was done eating, Harry had heard the story at least five more times. Meanwhile, he was busy wondering if the rumors were true.

Now that he thought about it, Snape and Jones did seem pretty awkward around each other. On top of that, there was the whole thing with professor Snape asking Harry to inform him on what happened at the dueling club practices. That could just be professional curiosity, but after hearing Dahpne's story, he was left questioning if Snape just wanted to know what Jones was up to. Harry shook his head silently. He was not looking forward to potions.

Fortunately, the first class of the day was Herbology with the Gryffindors. It didn't take a lot of focus to pot plants, so Harry could work on focusing his mind like he had been taught in Snape's occulumency detentions. Somehow, the Gryffindors around him already knew about the graffiti outside Snape's classroom. It seemed very suspicious for the news to spread that fast, particularly since Slytherins rarely spent much time talking to Gryffindors. This lent some support to the idea that a Gryffindor had sneaked into the dungeons, but Tracey did have a point in that traveling across the school to Snape's lair in the middle of the night would be a massive undertaking for any Gryffindor. Between the portraits, Flitch, and Snape himself – getting caught seemed like a certainty. Harry was running through possibilities in his mind when Neville showed up at his side.

"Hey Harry."

"Hey Nevillle, how are you?"

"I'm doing good. Thanks for roping Hermione, me, and Boris together. You put her up to it, right?"

"Yeah, I guess I did. Are you guys getting along alright?"

"More or less. I have noticed that fewer people pick on us now, so that by itself makes sitting together worth it."

"I'm happy to hear that."

Neville paused for a moment. "I hear you are playing against us this weekend."

"Yeah, or your quidditch team at least. I hope you won't hold a grudge against me after we beat you guys."

Neville grinned. "We'll see what happens." He peered into Harry's pot. "By the way, you might want to add a bit more soil to them. If you leave them like this, the roots might freeze."

Harry nodded, adding a couple more scoopfuls to the pot. "Did you hear about the potions classroom?"

Neville shifted nervously. "Yeah, I had a feeling something would happen."

Harry eyed the lanky boy suspiciously. "How?"

"You can keep a secret right?"

Harry glanced over his shoulders, then nodded once he was sure Tracey was out of earshot. Neville leaned in closer and whispered, "The twins have been very agitated for the past few days. I've noticed that they are usually like this before they do something big."

"I don't see how they could have made it to the potions classroom and back without getting caught."

"I don't know either, but if anybody could do it, it's them. You're not going to tell anybody I told you this, right?"

"I'll take it to the grave. Besides, I already have enough to worry about without them coming after us."

"Thanks, I should go back to my table now. We're getting some looks."

"See you later." As Neville left, Harry collected his thoughts once more. He already knew that Snape hated many of the Gryffindors. That much was evident every time they had potions together. He was willing to bet the twins fell in that category, and if that was the case, there was no telling how Snape would react if he found out they did it. After having gotten to know Snape over the past month, Harry guessed their punishment would be somewhere between a year's worth of detentions, and poison in their dinner.

"Hey Harry, are you coming?"

He looked up from the table, and noticed the rest of the class was walking out of the glass building. He quickly gathered up his supplies and joined them. Together, they walked to Flitwick's classroom for charms. Many of the Hufflepuffs were already there. Luckily for them – they didn't have to walk all the way from the greenhouse. Flitwick stepped out of his office just before the bell, and announced the new spell they would be learning.

The incantation was lumos, and the purpose of the charm would be to produce light from their wand. There were many variations of the spell – ranging from producing a floating light that freed up the wand for other spells, to creating a burst of light that could blind attackers – but as first years they would be learning the most basic version. As Flitwick was describing the spell, Harry realized that it was much like the shielding charm in that the amount of power put into the spell determined the strength of the shield, or in this case, the brightness of the light. Harry found that while his light wasn't the brightest, he was able to maintain it with ease. When professor Flitwick passed by, he commended Harry on his focus.

After charms, the first years went to the great hall for lunch. The girls spent most of the time speculating what Snape would do during potions. Word was that he had covered the graffiti with a tapestry for the time being. Harry couldn't help being impressed. Whoever had put it up must be skilled if the potions master couldn't remove it. Then again, it had taken them a weekend to clean up their own dorms after they had gotten pranked during the first week of school.

The boys on the other hand were talking about the upcoming quidditch match against Gryffindor. Harry was relieved to learn that the Gryffindor seeker wasn't considered very good. At the same time, he wasn't sure if his friends were being honest, or just trying to reassure him. Regardless, Flint had been spending most of the practices training the chasers and the beaters. Granted, the latter two didn't need much direction, but most of their plays involved coordinated attacks that relied on Peregrine and Lucian to disrupt the defending seeker formations. Hopefully, Flint's focus elsewhere meant that he didn't expect too much of Harry, or at the very least believed he would have no issue catching the snitch.

After they finished their lunch, the Slytherins walked to the Snape's classroom for double potions with Ravenclaw. True to rumor, a massive tapestry now occupied the wall next to the classroom door. Harry only needed one glance at Snape's face to know that beneath his façade, the man was livid. Surprisingly, he seemed relatively composed on the surface. It probably helped that he favored the Slytherins, and tolerated the Ravenclaws. Harry could not imagine what it would have been like if they had their lesson with the Gryffindors, against whom Snape seemed to hold a personal grudge, or the Hufflepuffs, many of whom routinely failed to meet his standards.

While things could have been worse, they were certainly not good. The topic of the day was a rash soothing cream. At the beginning of the class, Snape announced that they would hex them with a rash, and they would each have to treat it with their own product. The ones that did not succeed would get to walk around the school for the rest of the day with an unsightly rash on their arm. The ones that failed utterly – to the point that Snape deemed it too dangerous to apply their cream in the first place, got detention. There were only a few students in the latter category (which unsurprisingly included Vincent and Gregory). A greater number produced a cream that was safe for skin contact – but did nothing to ease the rash. Harry and Neville fared better than most in that their cream reduced their rashes to half of their original intensity.

After Snape dismissed the class, he asked Harry to stay behind. He waved goodbye to his classmates, and walked up to Snape's desk. The potions master was sitting in his chair and twirling his wand. As he arrived, Snape pointed his wand at Harry's arm and intoned "utricaria evanesco." Harry rubbed his arm as the skin went cold. Within seconds, the rash had disappeared.

"Thank you, professor."

"You did half the work already. Besides, it would have faded in a few minutes regardless."

Harry cocked his head to the side, and Snape scoffed in response.

"What? Did you think that I would let twenty students walk around with a rash for the rest of the day? The hex is temporary, it only lasts a couple of hours at most. Just long enough to properly motivate you brats for the duration of the lesson."

Harry blushed slightly. That's exactly what he had expected. Snape did not wait for a response.

"Now, let's see your shield charm – or rather, your attempt at one."

Harry pulled out his wand, and spoke the incantation. Apart from a slight shimmer near the tip of his wand, there was little noticeable effect. Snape rose from his chair and walked to his side.

"That's further than I expected us to be by this point. But don't go congratulating yourself just yet. At the moment you are focusing all of your energy on conjuring the shield. And it's working – in an area of about a square centimeter. You need to broaden your focus across a larger area while still maintaining its intensity."

Harry looked at Snape blankly. "That sounds…"

"Paradoxical? Sure. Nonetheless, it's what you must do. If you have to apply the same amount of concentration – the same presence of mind - over a larger area, the only solution is to get better at channeling your magic. This is why such spells are normally not taught until later on in magical training. The only thing you can do at this point is keep at your occlumency exercises, and keep attempting the spell. Not mindlessly, but with a concerted effort to broaden its coverage."

Harry nodded slowly. It was a lot to take in. How could he concentrate on casting the spell – something that was very difficult in the first place, focus on keeping the shield up, and the same time make it larger? Some of the occlumency exercises he had been learning focused on splitting one's thoughts, but they were still heavily taxing for him, and applying the same process to a spell would be a different beast altogether.

"You may leave now. I would recommend holding off on any further practice until after this weekend. I want you to win this quidditch match."

Harry frowned – he didn't know Snape was a fan. The potions master smirked back.

"I don't need legilimency to know what you are thinking. No, I don't care about the sport itself. I just want to see those red-haired oafs thoroughly debased. I will speak with Flint later today. Your primary concern will be making sure you are well rested, and catching the snitch. The second part is very important, you see. It is difficult to humiliate them if Gryffindor wins because you haven't caught the snitch."

"I will do my best, sir."

"Your best better be good enough. It would be a shame if my confidence in you was misplaced. Dismissed."

Harry nodded mutely, and walked out of the classroom. Apparently, Snape thought that the Weasley twins were to blame for the graffiti outside his classroom. If both he and Neville suspected them – there was a good chance they were guilty. It was a tough prank to pull off, but Neville had repeatedly stressed how talented they were at this sort of thing. So on top of his teammates, the rest of the first years, and really all of Slytherin – Harry now had Snape breathing down his neck about this Sunday's match. He was beginning to regret this whole quidditch thing. It was fun at times – sure – but people took it way too seriously.

* * *

Harry felt queasy as he listened to the announcer call the Gryffindor team to the field, one by one. It was comforting that each of his teammates looked every bit as nervous as he felt, but not entirely reassuring since he had to rely on them to do their jobs. Even Lucian and Peregrine looked pale. They were usually excited at the prospect of whacking bludgers at people, and it seemed like they should be even more thrilled at the opportunity to whack bludgers at people that weren't their teammates. Harry snapped out of his chain of thought as the announcer reached the final Gryffindor player – Lloyd Hughes as seeker.

"Let's hear it for Gryffindor!"

The announcer's magically enhanced voice boomed, shaking the wooden supports in the tunnel that sheltered the Slytherin players. The cheering of the crowd seemed nearly as loud. The rumbling cries gradually dissipated, and the voice spoke once again, although with markedly less enthusiasm.

"I am now obligated to call out the Slytherin team. Marcus Flint, Slytherin Captain."

Harry frowned slightly as Flint squared his shoulders and stepped out of the tunnel. There was a barrage of cheering, along with some booing.

"Enough of that now. We'll have plenty of chances to boo Flint during the game."

"Jordan!" A voice, unmistakable McGonagall, interjected.

"Sorry Professor. Moving on, we have Adrian Pucey, chaser, entering the field."

Pucey followed Flint out of the tunnel, broom in hand.

"Cassius Warrington, chaser."

Peregrine and Lucian stepped ahead in anticipation. Jordan announced their names one after the other, fortunately without any witty commentary. Harry wasn't sure if they would be able to distinguish player from announcer if Jordan offended them.

"Miles Bletchley, keeper."

The crowd put forth a moderate round of applause. Harry swallowed. His name was next.

"Harry Potter, seeker."

This time there was a thunderous applause. Harry wasn't sure if people were clapping because they were excited to see him play, or because he was the boy who lived. As he stepped out of the tunnel, the light dazed him slightly. As his eyes adjusted, Harry noticed that everybody else was already standing in their starting formation, so he took his own place near the back. Madam Hootch walked to the middle of the field, between the two captains. She hovered a box into the air, and simultaneously raised a whistle to her lips.

"Mount your brooms please."

Both Gryffindor and Slytherin players complied. Harry swung his leg over the best school broom he had been able to find in the broom-shed. Madam Hootch blew the whistle and unlatched the box. The quaffle shot vertically into the air. Flint raced towards it while Wood retreated towards his goalposts. Simultaneously, the bludgers took off in opposite directions. A split second later, a shimmer of gold darted out of the box.

Harry knew better than to race after it. At this distance – it would be gone far before he could reach it. Instead, he rose above the field. The opposing seeker did the same. A Gryffindor was the first to reach the quaffle, and she immediately passed it ahead to one of her teamates. Harry tried to follow the play, but a narrow miss from a bludger forced him to look away. He spotted one of the Weasely twins point his club in his direction. A second after, another bludger grazed the red haired boy, spinning him around in mid-air.

In the next few minutes. It became evident that Peregrine and Lucian were focusing their efforts on knocking out the Gryffindor Beaters. Harry was confused – this wasn't what they had planned during their practices. The Slytherin beaters were to assist the chasers in their attack. Pursuing the Gryffindor beaters seemed like a fool's errand.

"10 points to Gryffindor!"

Harry twisted his head towards the Slytherin end of the pitch. Miles was kicking one of the goalposts. Fortunately, Flint and the chasers had recuperated and were moving towards the Gryffindor side in an arrowhead formation. When a Gryffindor chaser approached the point, Flint and Cassius ducked under while Adrian flew straight at him. The Gryffindor panicked and averted his flight trajectory. Meanwhile Flint and Cassius kept flying straight.

At this point, Lucian was supposed to occupy one of the two remaining defenders so that Flint could approach unmolested. Unfortunately, the beaters seemed to be on another planet with the Weasleys. Jordan was having a good time announcing the bludger back and forth between the two pairs, but they seemed deadlocked to the point that neither pair of beaters had any effect on the course of the match.

Flint drove past one of the defenders, and threw the quaffle to Cassius. The 3rd year threw the quaffle towards the near goalpost, but his shot was deftly caught by Wood. The Gryffindor section of the stands erupted in cheering while Harry groaned quietly. The Keeper tossed the quaffle to one of his chasers, and the Slytherins retreated to defend.

Harry's heart skipped a beat when he saw a glimmer of the snitch near the center of the field. He immediately dived after it. Unfortunately, Lloyd had seen it too, and the opposing seeker looked to be gaining. Harry hunched forward, trying to wrest a bit extra speed from his broom. Just as they were nearing the snitch, it veered sharply to the right and disappeared behind the stands.

"10 points to Slytherin. The score is 10-10."

Flint and Adrian joined Cassius on the defensive while the Gryffindor chasers pressed forward. One of the chasers managed to speed past Adrian, but was nearly knocked off his broom by an elbow from Flint, dropping the quaffle in the process.

"WHAT! That's a clear fowl," boomed Jordan. Madam Hootch seemed to agree, because she gave a penalty to the Gryffindor chaser. He flew undeterred towards Miles, and easily scored a goal past the flustered Slytherin keeper.

"10 points to Gryffindor. The score is now 20-10."

The game went on for another forty minutes without any sight of the snitch. Harry found it odd, but quickly realized that it was far easier to spot the golden orb under practice conditions. The score gradually diverged, with Gryffindor leading 80 points to 50, half of them scored via penalty throws. While the beaters were preoccupied with trying to beat each other, Flint seemed bent on taking out half the Gryffindor team single-handed.

Unfortunately, Wood was just as skilled in the defensive theater. Combined with a thoroughly competent offense, the Gryffindors were able to stay ahead. Harry found the beater matchup to be far more interesting. They had been trading shots for nearly an hour now, and both sides seemed to be in pretty bad shape. Lucian had taken a bludger to the chest, and Hootch had insisted on a medical time-out to assess him. Fortunately, the beater seemed to be made of steel and was back on his broom in minutes. Fred Weasley, on the other hand, was bleeding freely from his nose from an earlier hit to the face.

Harry was scanning the air for the snitch when a chorus of gasps alerted him to the plummeting figure of the Gryffindor beater. He was caught near the ground by Hootch, who called another medical timeout. Fred Weasley wouldn't regain consciousness, so she sent him off to Madam Pomfrey.

This marked a turn of events for the Slytherins. Their opponents were now one player short, and the balance of power between the beaters had been disrupted. Over the next fifteen minutes, Lucian and Peregrine methodically wore George Weasley down. Ultimately, the Gryffindor beater simultaneously took both bludgers to the upper body. Harry didn't need to wait for the medical timeout to know that the boy wouldn't be swinging his beaters bat anytime soon.

Now that the Weasleys were out of commission, the Slytherin beaters joined their chasers on the offensive. It was brutal. Even Woods' superb defensive skills couldn't stop the onslaught. After only ten minutes, Peregrine added another casualty to the list. Now with only four players – just three of which were involved with the quaffle – Gryffindor rapidly lost their lead. Slytherin quickly grew theirs. A mere twenty minutes after the Weasleys were indisposed, Jordan was forced to announce a 210-100 lead for the snakes.

Harry was having fun watching the carnage taking place before him. In fact, he was so entranced that he nearly missed Lloyd take off after the snitch. He cursed quietly and raced after, pushing his broom for everything it was worth. Still it wasn't enough. The Gryffindor seeker was markedly faster - no doubt due to the shiny broom carrying his body.

Harry lowered his torso, pressing it flat against the broom shaft, and willed the broom forward with everything he had. A faintly acrid smell drifted to his nostrils, but it wasn't until the crowd started screaming that he realized the tail of his broom was on fire. He tried to ignore it, but the broom began to fail as the tail-twigs were consumed by the flames. At first the handle just shook, but seconds later, the broom's flight became impossible to control. Harry was forced to take it to the ground or risk having his brains dashed against one of the stands. Just as he landed, Jordan's voice boomed overhead.

"YES! Lloyd catches the snitch! Gryffindor wins - 250 points to 220!"

* * *

 **A/N: I will address questions asked in reviews in the FAQ section of my author profile page (that you can reach by clicking my username). If I don't answer a question publicly, it is probably because the answer would be a spoiler for future chapters. Also, while the twins may have gotten the short end of the stick this chapter, I can assure you that I am not into Weasley bashing (or bashing any character for that matter). While bad things may happen to certain characters at some point, it is usually for a greater purpose with regards to plot or character development, and that purpose may not become clear until several chapters later.**


	12. Uplift

_"YES! Lloyd catches the snitch! Gryffindor wins - 250 points to 220!"_

* * *

The walk back through the tunnel was silent. Harry's frantic heartbeat hadn't slowed since he had stepped off the pitch. He was sure that any acceptance he may have earned with his teammates in the past few weeks of practice had been shattered by his failure to catch the snitch. Maybe if he had positioned himself better, or been more attentive to his surroundings, he could have beaten Lloyd. As it was, the Gryffindor seeker had gotten to it first, and Harry had cost his team match. When they reached the Slytherin locker room, Flint finally spoke.

"Gather round everybody. I know we are all tired, but there are some things we should talk about."

Harry hung his head. He was getting kicked off the team. Worse still, he knew he deserved it.

"First of all, you all did great out there. Better than I had expected."

Harry jerked his head up. Surely there was a 'but' coming.

"I really mean it. Each and every one of you. Lucian and Peregrine were obviously in on it, but as the rest of you probably realized, we had to change our game plan on short notice. A higher authority asked us to teach the Weasley twins a lesson, and our beaters here did just that."

Flint grasped Peregrine and Lucian by their shoulders. Harry suddenly remembered his conversation with professor Snape. It all made sense. He also remembered himself promising to catch the snitch, and his heart sank once more.

"This unexpected circumstance gave the Gryffs an edge at first, but taking out their beaters more than made up for it. Adrian, Cassius, you both did a fine job on the offensive. Over 200 points… that's not bad at all for our first match together. There are obviously improvements that can be made, but I was proud to fly with you today."

Cassius and Adrian grinned. The latter gave a mock salute, "it was fine flying with you too, Captain."

"Allright, settle down." Flint turned to Beltchley, a smile still on his face. "Miles, the same goes for you. We still need to work on your coverage, but yielding only 100 points on your first game isn't bad. Wood himself didn't do much better his first time on the pitch. I should know – I was there."

Finally, Flint turned to Harry. This was it – the moment of truth.

"Harry. You're going to get some hate over the next week or so, mainly at the hands of our Slytherin comrades. Don't pay them any attention. We just lost the match, and they need somebody to blame. The snitch is worth 150 points, so it's probably going to be you. Obviously, we know it wasn't your fault. These school brooms are solid as bricks – and as aerodynamically capable – so they don't just catch fire. That was freakishly bad luck. My uncle got bit by a mackled malaclaw a few years ago, and got hit by lighting the next day. This is up there with that in terms of bad luck.

Harry's teammates were slowly nodding. His heart rate started to slow down a bit. This reaction was better than he had dared hope. He didn't care about what some random Slytherins thought – as long as his teammates were behind him, he would weather any teasing.

"First order of business for you should be to get a new broom." A wave of chuckles swept the room. "You might be able to get a new model from Comet or whoever made the broom that blew up underneath you. I think they kind of owe you one. If not that, we may be able to get Snape to pony up the funds. He says he doesn't care about quidditch, but I bet he likes collecting house trophies."

Flint stepped back so that he could look at the entire group. "Overall, fine job. We only lost by thirty points. That still leaves us in good shape to play for the trophy three months from now. Between now and then, we have another seven matches. Next time we meet the Gryffs on the pitch, we'll beat them by three hundred points." Flint paused for a second. "If things start turning sour, we can just knock out their entire team."

* * *

Just as Flint had predicted, Harry had to put up with some abuse over the next few days. Surprisingly, the majority of it did not come from his housemates. They were too busy congratulating the beaters. It seemed like many of them did not care so much about the final score so long as they got to watch an exciting match. It also helped that many of them seemed to have a personal vendetta against the Weasleys. Gryffindors, on the other hand, took every opportunity to mock Harry for not catching the snitch.

Harry wasn't entirely sure why they cared – after all, they had won. Fortunately, Hermione filled him in at one of their study sessions. Word around the Gryffindor common room was that Fred Weasley had nearly bled to death after Lucian broke his nose. On top of that, it still looked a little odd after madam Pomfrey had straightened it. Gorge was in worse shape, and he would be missing half the week while she healed the damage to his ribcage and underlying organs.

So that was it. They wanted to get back at Slytherin for injuring their players. Most were too frightened to go after the Slytherin beaters, so Harry was the easier target. At least Hermione and Neville were still talking to him. As long as his friends stood by him, the rest of the Gryffindors were irrelevant. His main concern was how Snape would react to his failure.

Harry was on edge for practically all of Tuesday's potions class. As the minutes ticked by, he figured Snape must be waiting until after class to address him. That made sense - the potions master wouldn't want any witnesses when he murdered Harry.

After the class was dismissed, Harry contemplated sneaking away. Ultimately, he decided to backtrack to the potions classroom and face whatever punishment was coming his way. The door swung open just as he was about to knock. Snape sat in his chair, a smirk on his face.

"So, the hero returns."

Harry glowered at Snape, and the potions master laughed. Hearing it felt strange – like watching a giraffe walk on its hind legs.

"What? Did you expect me to be angry? I already told you, I don't care for quidditch." Snape leaned forward on his desk, lowering his voice. "I got everything I could have asked for. Those two delinquents knocked down a peg or thirty, and a Potter learning some humility."

"A Potter, sir?"

"Your father played seeker for Gryffindor, as I'm sure you already know. Him and I weren't exactly on good terms. Unfortunately, he was skilled at his craft, so I very rarely had a chance to gloat. Usually, it was the other way around."

"But I'm not my father, sir."

Snape paused for a moment, staring at Harry's eyes. Harry expected to feel a legimency probe, but there was none.

"Indeed, you're not." Snape got up from his desk, and began to pace. "Let's talk about that broom. It is incredibly rare to see one spontaneously combust. Sure, it used to happen hundreds of years ago. Since then, broom makers have gotten better. Modern brooms, and the one you were riding, have a much higher capacity for absorbing magic. Besides, they are stacked with fire-retardant charms in case the broom gets hit by lighting."

"For your broom to have caught fire, one of two things had to have happened. One – it could have been cursed. Several members of the staff examined the broom after the match, and we have reached a consensus that it was not tampered with. Two – you may have somehow overloaded it with magic. Tell me, what was running through your head just before the incident?"

Harry scrunched his forehead as he did his best to remember. Those moments, and the ones after, had been so packed with adrenaline and emotion that it was tough.

"I was concentrating on catching the snitch. I was willing the broom to go faster."

Snape lifted a finger. "That's probably it. Tell me, what do you typically need for a spell?"

"Umm… an incantation?"

"You've seen me cast wordlessly. Try again."

Harry thought about it a little longer.

"We need to have magic inside us, right? That's why muggles can't cast spells."

Snape tilted his hand side to side. "Somewhat. Squibs have magic too, they just can't tap into it. I'll accept that though. You do need magic to cast spells. What else?"

"I don't know, sir."

"Come on…" Snape groaned, tossing his hands in the air. "I'll give you a hint. _Expecto patronum!_ "

The potions master swept his wand in a circular motion, and a translucent silver figure burst from the tip. It was an animal of some sort… a doe. As it galloped around the room, Harry began to feel a swell of happiness in his chest. He sank to his knees. Snape lowered his wand, and seconds later, the doe disappeared. Harry slowly got up.

"What was that, professor?

"That was a patronus. A charm used to defend against certain dark creatures."

"It was beautiful…"

"Yes… she was."

Harry leaned against the wall. He still felt aftershocks of euphoria, albeit rapidly fading. Snape seemed to be lost in thought. After a few seconds, he turned back to Harry.

"How did the patronus make you feel?"

"Happy..."

"As it should. To cast this type of magic, I needed to pour happiness into the spell. I needed intent, and my own memories. The memories when I felt most blissful. It varies from person to person, but the spell works best for me when I use just one particular memory."

"What memory, sir?"

Snape crossed his arms. "Tell me, what was your intent when you were riding on that broom?"

"To go faster."

"That intent, coupled with your inherent magical ability, proved too much for the broom to handle. It is amazing, to be frank. Somebody your age should not possess such magical reserves. First the legimency outburst, and now this. You lack the means to tap into these reserves without strong emotional stimuli, but that will come with time and training. At the moment, what you need to do is to buy a new broom, one that doesn't force you to use magic to compensate for its poor speed and handling."

Harry nodded quickly. "Flint said as much. Actually sir, he said that you might be willing to finance the broom as our head of house."

"Wishful thinking. I could get a year's worth of dragon-scale powder for that sum... Why not buy it yourself? You have a small fortune in your Gringotts vault. Not to mention the Potter vault itself."

"Will I need to make another withdrawal? I still have 140 galleons left in my chest."

Snape waved his hand. "Keep that money with you. Quality Quiditch Supplies can pull money directly from your personal vault after you sign a transfer note. You will however need an escort to Diagon Alley. I shall talk to our headmaster, and we will arrange something for this weekend."

"Thank you, sir."

Snape nodded curtly. "Now that this quidditch nonsense is out of the way, why don't you show me your shielding charm?"

Harry pulled out his wand, and focused his mind. He had been practicing the spell for half an hour here and there over the past week. He had managed to expand it to the size of a pack of playing cards, but there was still something missing. He thought back to what Snape had said about focusing his mind while at the same time expanding his thoughts, but it still sounded contradictory. Nonetheless, he was getting better at it.

He tried to concentrate, but the patronus spell was still in the back of his mind. If intent and emotion were the key to that spell, perhaps they could help him with the shield? He put Snape's original advice on the backburner, and wracked his brain for memories of protection. There was only one that had any significance - the memory he had only recently reclaimed. That of his mother throwing herself in front of him to block the killing curse. Harry concentrated on the memory, on what it had felt like to be protected, and went through the wand motion.

"Protego!"

A shimmering oval shield of energy spread from the tip of his wand. It covered the entire front of his body with space to spare. At the same time, Harry felt a slight twinge in his forehead. Snape stared mutely for a moment.

"How?"

The shield disappeared as Harry stopped to speak. "I got it to the size of a pack of playing cards over the past week. This is the first time it's looked like this."

"What did you do differently?"

"I focused on my memory of my mother protecting me."

Snape seemed to regain his composure, although the look of disbelief did not completely leave his features. "Well... keep doing that. I can't wait to see the look on Jones face. Save the spell for a particularly dramatic moment."

Harry paused for a moment. He didn't want to pry, but at the same time, he couldn't contain his curiosity. "Sir, do you have a crush on professor Jones?"

"No..." Snape drawled, his eyes decidedly unamused. "Are kids still talking about that stupid heart those imbeciles put on the wall?"

"No, they're mostly talking about the quidditch match."

"Good. In that case, that's all for today. Keep working on that spell, I will be testing it out next time. Also, don't neglect your occlumency exercises. Dismissed."

* * *

Over the next couple of days, Harry practiced the shielding charm in his room just before going to bed. He was gradually quicker at casting. Moreover, he no longer had to bring up the memory of his mother to cast the spell. It seemed like having experienced the correct combination of magic and intent once made it unnecessary to go through the process again. It reminded him of learning to ride Dudley's bicycle. When he stepped into the dueling room for Thursday's practice, he felt prepared for anything a first year could send at him.

Professor Jones typically had them start off with stretching exercise to get warmed up. According to her, being limber and ready to move was essential to dodging spells. She wasn't there, but Flitwick had them start off in the same manner. As Harry stretched his shoulder, he felt like somebody was watching him. After a quick look around the room, he saw that it was only Ron Weasley, and went back to his stretch.

The red-haired boy was never friendly with Harry, not since he had been sorted into Slytherin, but Ron rarely instigated any sort of trouble. Harry took another look – Ron, Dean, and Seamus were now huddled together and whispering about something.

After the class finished with stretches, Flitwick explained that they would be working on a spell that produced sparks form their wand. It was like the lumos spell that they were learning in Charms. A lot of people were grumbling that they weren't learning a proper dueling spell, but the charms professor had stressed how it was important to be able to signal for help in the event they were outnumbered – or won a duel but were injured in the process. In addition, he promised that it would be a good stepping stone towards offensive flame-based spells in future years.

Harry had little trouble casting the spell since he was already proficient with lumos. While he was trying to change the color of his sparks to green, he noticed Ron and his friends inching their way closer. He ignored their advance, and continued experimenting with the spell. Moments later, a series of bangs erupted. They seemed to be coming from the hallway outside the dueling room, and the professor went outside to investigate. The moment Flitwick was out the door, Ron and his friends stepped in front of Harry.

Harry looked up wearily. "Yes, Ron?"

"What are you looking at Potter?"

"Not sure if that's meant to scare me or to provoke me, but it's doing neither."

"You should be scared. Those shaved gorillas on your team put my brothers in the hospital wing, and now... I'm going to send **you** there."

Harry tilted his head. "Why not send Lucian or Peregrine to the hospital wing? Aren't **they** the ones that hurt your brothers?" A crowd of students had gathered around them to watch the confrontation, and some of the Slytherins laughed at Harry's response.

"Shut up. Get ready Potter."

Ron lifted his wand, a jinx on his lips. With the distance between them so small, Harry knew he didn't have a chance of dodging the spell. Snape wanted him to show off the spell in front of Jones, but he had also asked for a dramatic reveal. It would have to be the latter.

" _Tarantallegra! Protego!_ "

Harry and Ron cast their spells near-simultaneously. Harry's shield reflected the jinx right back at his opponent. Immediately, Ron began to dance an energetic jig. Harry kept his wand raised, ready for a counter curse from Ron. Surprisingly, none came.

"Harry Potter! What is the meaning of this?" Harry recognized Flitwick's unmistakable voice, and turned to face the professor.

"I didn't jinx him, professor. I merely shielded myself."

Flitwick chuckled. "Come on, Harry. That's advanced magic, even for a talented boy like you."

Harry shrugged, and cast the spell again for the professor. Flitwick gasped. Meanwhile, Ron was still dancing.

"How wonderful Harry! How did you manage it? Wait, don't tell me. We can talk about it after class in detail." Professor Flitwick turned towards Ron. "Mr. Weasley, you can cast the counter curse any moment now."

"I don't… know it… professor." Ron looked unusually red, but he may have just been winded from the dancing.

"Really? You would cast a jinx without knowing the counter? That is incredibly dangerous. _Finite_!"

Ron's legs finally stopped moving, and the red-haired boy hunched over, catching his breath.

"Normally, I would give detention for unsanctioned dueling, but it seems you have suffered enough here. As for the rest of you, let's see some sparks!"

The crowd slowly dispersed, and Harry's classmates got back to practicing the spell. Every now and then, he caught this student or that sneaking a glance at him. Somehow, he had a feeling that nobody else would bother him anytime soon.


	13. Green, Red, and Silver

_The crowd slowly dispersed, and Harry's classmates got back to practicing the spell. Every now and then, he caught this student or that sneaking a glance at him. Somehow, he had a feeling that nobody else would bother him anytime soon._

* * *

Snape yawned as he approached the Gargoyle. His pace was slower than his usual brisk walk. It had been a long day, and he was looking forward to getting some sleep after speaking with the Headmaster. Dumbledore had scheduled their meeting for 11 pm - the old man was a bit of a night owl. Snape paused in front of the Gargoyle. He couldn't remember the latest password. This didn't surprise him in the least, considering he had been working late each day for the past week.

"Lemon drops?"

The statue stood still.

"Chocolate frogs?"

It still did not move. He rattled off every candy and confectionery he could think of until it finally revealed the staircase on his ninth try. He didn't understand why Dumbledore habitually picked passwords that could be guessed by an eight-year old. Then again, maybe that was the point. Students wouldn't try to access the headmaster's office unless there was a huge problem or they were up to no good. In either case, the old man would want to know about it, and the multiple detection charms in his office alerted him to any new arrivals instantly. A scheme worthy of a Slytherin. Dumbledore was already waiting for Snape when he walked through the final set of doors.

"Good evening Severus."

Snape nodded curtly. "Headmaster."

"Take a seat, please. You said you wanted to speak to me about arranging a trip for Harry?"

Snape sat down in the chair across from Dumbledore's desk. "Yes. The boy needs a new broom."

"Of course. I'm afraid we all saw that unfortunate incident during last weekend's quidditch match. Quite a sordid affair all around, no? Three students incapacitated, and two more injured. I do understand quidditch can be a bloody sport – but a few more matches like this one and we may not have any willing players."

"Most unfortunate sir," Snape replied deadpan.

"Strangely, your beaters seemed to be targeting the Weasley boys at first. I wonder who came up with this new strategy."

Snape sat silent, meeting Dubmledore's pointed look head-on.

"I suppose it doesn't really matter. After all, they acted within the rules of the sport. I wouldn't accuse of you with trying to get even with a pair of pranksters. Even if that was the case – I can hardly give you a detention." Dumbledore chuckled at his own joke.

"I disagree headmasters. It feels like I am already in detention considering how much time I spend each evening working on the tracking potion for you."

"Ah yes. Is it coming along?"

"It will be ready next weekend."

"So soon? That exceeds even our most optimistic estimates."

"Yes. I found a way to simplify the protocol used to create the potion. It remains incredibly labor intensive, but the overall time-frame has been reduced."

"Wonderful work. Now… what were we speaking of earlier?"

"Harry's broom."

Dumbledore smiled brightly. "I see you call him Harry now rather than Potter. That's good. Forgiveness sets us free."

Snape shrugged. "He is not quite what I expected him to be. Regardless, he has a match next weekend, so it would be ideal if he could travel to Diagon Alley this weekend to purchase a broom."

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. "No doubt. Would you be accompanying him on this trip?"

"No. I must work on your potion this weekend. Besides, I already spend more than enough time with the boy."

"Ah yes, I've heard about that. You helped him learn the shield charm. That's very impressive – I've never heard it cast by one so young. I only hope you did not teach the boy just to impress Ms. Jones?"

Snape scoffed lightly. "Of course not. If I only taught him to impress her, I wouldn't be bothering with the occulumency lessons."

"Yes. Shield charm… occulumency… our young friend has an interesting set of skills. Some may say dangerous even. It is essential that we do not allow him to stray from the righteous path. Who are his friends?"

"I only see him at mealtimes and in the classroom. He eats with the first year Slytherins – as is expected. It seems like he mainly speaks with Malfoy and Nott. He typically pairs up with people outside his house for potions. Interestingly, with Gryffindor it's the Longbottom boy."

"Neville? That is welcome news. Can't say as much for Malfoy and Nott, but perhaps they will grow to be different men than their fathers."

"Perhaps," Snape responded, his face expressionless.

"How does he get along with the other Gryffindors?"

"I can't say. Students know better than to dilly-dally in my class, so he does not have the opportunity to talk to anyone besides his potions partner. Besides, I'm sure you heard about the circumstances of him casting the protego charm."

"Ah, yes. An altercation with our youngest Weasley. It is sad the two boys at odds when only a decade ago their parents fought side by side. Perhaps we should arrange for Molly to take him to Diagon Alley?"

Snape shrugged. "She would no doubt be a capable chaperone… so long as she does not blame Harry for her sons' recent quidditch injuries. I cannot help but wonder if Mrs. Longbottom would be a better choice."

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "I will speak to Molly and make sure there is no confusion regarding Harry's innocence in that incident. As far as his altercation with Ron – it looks like a schoolboy spat. I'm sure she is familiar with such things after raising six of them."

"As you wish."

"That's all then, Severus. I will inform Harry of the final arrangements personally, so you need not trouble yourself with any of the details this weekend. Happy brewing!"

Snape acknowledged the light-hearted jab with a tight-lipped smile, and walked back to his office. He was not looking forward to the tedium of working on the tracking potion, but perhaps he could find more ways to streamline the process. By the time he reached the dungeons, he was deep in thought about potential modifications.

* * *

About ten minutes into history of magic, Harry abandoned all hope of listening to the lecture. Binns was talking about some goblin rebellion. It felt like there were half a dozen of them, and Harry couldn't tell them apart if his life depended on it. Instead, he doodled on his parchment and tried to figure out what Dumbledore wanted to talk about.

He had received a note from the headmaster during breakfast. Dumbledore wanted to meet after classes ended for the day. Quizzically, the note did not say why. The only reason Harry could think of was the dueling club meeting where he had used the shield charm. Dumbledore was probably going to gush over him, as Flitwick had done, or discipline him for unsanctioned dueling.

After suffering through 60 minutes of Binns' droning, Harry was set free by the bell. As he walked out the door, Draco fell in step with him. All of the Slytherin first years had seen Harry receive the note at breakfast, and more than a few had been interested in what it was all about. Draco was no exception.

"Off to see the headmaster?"

"Yeah - no point in keeping him waiting."

Draco stopped walking and laid a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Be careful. Father says the old man walks a thin line between madness and competence. Madness in that most of what he says is complete lunacy, and competency in that he somehow manages to make things work out in his favor time and time again."

"I appreciate the advice mate, but I'll be fine. Really. It's probably nothing."

"If you say so. Just remember, if he does anything weird, you can count on my father and I to help you. I'll see you later." Draco gave Harry's shoulder a parting squeeze before walking away to join the other Slytherins departing the classroom.

Harry turned around and continued walking towards the headmaster's office. He still couldn't wrap his head around Draco – and really all Slytherins' – distrust of the headmaster. Harry had only spoken to the man once, but he had been cordial. Not only that, but Dumbledore had given him one of the greatest gifts he had ever received – the parting memories recorded by his parents. Still, he would be careful around the headmaster for now – whatever that meant.

When he reached the Gargoyle, he gave the password that the note had provided, and walked up the staircase to the office without problem. He knocked on the door, and seconds later it swung open. Dumbledore was sitting at his desk. The wizard gestured towards the chair opposite him, and Harry slowly took a seat. For a couple of seconds, the headmaster looked at him without speaking. Abruptly, he smiled.

"Relax, you are not in any trouble."

Harry felt his shoulders fall a few centimeters as he involuntarily let out a sigh.

"I only wish to talk about your first six weeks at Hogwarts. Have you been enjoying your time here so far?"

Harry nodded quickly. Now that he knew why he was here, it felt like much of the tension had disappeared. "These have been without a doubt the best six weeks of my life."

The shadow of a frown flitted across Dumbledore's face, quickly replaced by his customary smile. "I am happy to hear you like life at Hogwarts. Your professors seem quite happy as well. I have been told that you are doing quite well in your classes."

"They have all been very helpful both in and out of class – I don't think I could have learned so much in so little time without professors Snape and Jones. My friends have also been great. Hermione – this girl from Gryffindor - is like a walking encyclopedia."

"Well said. Life is certainly easier when we have friends and well-wishers around us. I am happy to hear that is the case for you. How are your housemates?"

"They've been nice too. I eat with them every day. I've had a lot going on recently, so I haven't been able to hang out with them much outside of mealtimes."

"That is reassuring. There haven't been very many Potters in Slytherin, so I was concerned they might pick on you." Dumbledore paused for a moment before continuing. "If you ever have any problems – or feel like you are being targeted – don't hesitate to come to me."

Harry nodded, frowning slightly. It seemed like Dumbledore was just as wary of Draco and most of his Slytherin friends as they were of Dumbledore. Meanwhile, the headmaster helped himself to a lemon drop and leaned back in his armchair.

"Now, professor Snape told me that you wish to go shopping for a new broomstick this weekend."

"That's right, sir. The school broom that I was using burnt up, and I've been told that purchasing a higher end model better suited for a seeker would stop that from happening again."

"Ah yes, I was watching that match when your broom gave out. Indeed, a faster modern broom should reduce the chances of it happening again. Unfortunately, professor Snape is quite busy this weekend, so I have arranged another chaperone for you. Her name is Mrs. Weasley – I believe you have already met some of her children."

Harry winced. He had indeed met three of her children, although perhaps it would have been better if he hadn't. "Yes professor. Umm… I'm don't think we are on the best of terms."

Dumbledore swept his hand aside. "Don't worry about that. Many generations of Weasleys have passed through Hogwarts in recent memory. They can be… temperamental. However, they are also highly loyal, and have done more for our cause than most. Mrs. Weasley is a highly compassionate person, and I have already explained the situation to her. Rest assured, she will treat you well."

"But Ron…"

Dumledore raised his hand, cutting Harry off. "The young Mr. Weasley will not be going along with you, so you don't have to worry about bickering during the trip. It will only be yourself and Mrs. Weasley."

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, settling into an occulumency exercise to slow himself down. He was frustrated by the headmaster's arrangement, but there didn't seem like there was anything he could do to change it, and he really needed that broom. On top of that, it wouldn't do to antagonize Dumbledore if anything Draco had said was true. Harry opened his eyes again, and smiled at the headmaster.

"Ok, sir. Thank you for arranging this trip."

The old man shuddered slightly, but quickly regained his composure. "Don't mention it, my boy. You can report to your head-of-house's office this Saturday afternoon at 1pm, and he will send you off to via the floo. Any questions?"

Harry shook his head, still smiling.

"Ok then, off you go."

"Have a good night, sir." Harry got up from his chair, and walked out the door. As soon as he left the staircase, groaned to himself. Despite the excitement of getting a new broomstick, interacting with Mrs. Weasley was bound to be terribly awkward. What was he supposed to say? 'Hi, I'm Harry. Sorry about your twins – I promise, that wasn't me. Oh, and I didn't jinx your other son – I only reflected his own jinx back at him.' Yep, it was sure to be a harmonious trip.

* * *

As he sat in his office, Dumbledore tried to forget Harry's parting smile. The smile that reminded him of a boy that attended Hogwarts many decades ago. A boy that was gifted in many of the same ways. Of course, the other one had been broken – destined to become something terrible. That is what Dumbledore liked to tell himself. It was easier to do so – the alternative would be to admit that his inaction had played a role in creating a monster. Nonetheless, he resolved to act now so that Harry would never tread a similar path. At the moment, that meant introducing him to the right sort of people.

* * *

"I'm telling you, the Cleansweep 7 is the way to go. 0 to 80 kilometers per hour in ten seconds flat. You can't beat that."

"Really Theo? A Cleansweep? Maybe he should borrow a mop from Filtch instead." Draco turned towards Harry. "Don't listen to him– he doesn't know what he's talking about. You should go for the Nimbus 2000."

Harry nodded quickly as he shoveled another spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth. It was almost 12:30pm, and he didn't want to be late.

"You two are so boring," interjected Ornelle from a couple of seats over. "They are basically the same thing. I'm tired of hearing you blabber on about it."

Harry couldn't help agreeing. Naturally, he kept that to himself.

"What!?" Draco and Theo yelled simultaneously. They looked at each other with narrowed eyes before turning back towards Runcorn.

"You bite your tongue! The Nimbus is ten times the broom."

Ornelle clutched her head with her hands. "Shut up Draco. You're only saying that because your father owns part of the company."

"Hey, how do you know that."

The red-haired girl stared back blankly. "You told everybody, remember?"

" _Father owns half of Nimbus! They send me the newest model each year!"_ Daphne chimed in a mocking effeminate voice.

"Hey! I don't sound like that."

Harry chuckled softly, and then coughed violently as some of his mashed potatoes went down his airway. A violent slap on his back ejected the blob out of his mouth and onto the floor.

"Thanks, Vincent."

The towering boy grinned back. Meanwhile, Pansy cleared her throat loudly.

"I'm with Draco on this one. The Nimbus is definitely the superior broom."

The boy in question reddened slightly. Millicent made a gagging noise, and Pansy shot her a glare.

"What, you don't agree?"

"Come on, you're only saying that to score points with Draco. Personally, I think Harry should get a Comet 250. It's made by the same company as the school brooms, so it would take him less time to adapt."

Harry frowned slightly. Millicent had a good point. She usually kept quiet, so it felt strange to hear her speak – particularly since what she just said made more sense than anything Draco or Theo had put forth.

Daphne quickly interjected. "Haven't you been listening – it's between the Nimbus and the Cleansweep."

Millicent shrugged and went back to eating. Harry remembered that he was supposed to be somewhere soon, and resumed shoveling down his lunch. Draco and Theo kept on arguing, with intermittent input from Daphnee and Tracy, who seemed to be having fun at least. Ornelle, on the other hand, was practically tearing out her hair. After a few more bites, Harry downed his pumpkin juice in one go and got up from the table.

"Leaving already? Don't let Snape push you around – make sure you get to pick out the broom."

"You bet, Theo." With a wave to the table, Harry made his way out of the Great Hall. He hadn't mentioned his conversation with Dumbledore, and all his Slytherin acquaintances had assumed that Snape would be the one escorting him to Diagon Alley. He didn't see the point in telling them otherwise – they would probably accuse him of fraternizing with the enemy, or it might further stoke their animosity towards Dumbledore.

After five minutes of navigating staircases and hallways, Harry made it to Snape's office with some time to spare. He knocked on the door, but there was no response. After thirty seconds of wondering if he had missed something, a silvery doe – Snape's patronus – galloped through the wall. Snape's disembodied voice projected from the figure.

"I am in my private laboratory. The door to my office is unlocked. You may enter and use the floo to reach your destination, 'The Burrow.' DON'T touch anything else, and close the door behind you. In case you were wondering, yes, the patronus can be used to send messages."

Harry could picture the smirk on Snape's face as he said the last sentence. As soon as the message was delivered, the doe faded away. Harry opened the door as he had been directed, and closed it behind himself. The Floo lay just ahead, and a small fire was already lit within it. He grabbed a fistful of powder from a jar on the mantelpiece, and cast it into the flames.

"The Burrow."

He stepped through the green fire, and emerged into a cozy little room occupied by a couch, a couple of armchairs, and a small table. The walls were lined with pictures, and a large bookshelf was filled to the brim with tomes. An unusual clock was fixed to the wall opposite the fireplace. It had many hands, each one ending in a small portrait of a person. These hands pointed at various messages, seemingly describing where the Weasleys were at the time. He noticed that the only adult woman in the group – in all likelihood Mrs. Weasley – was 'at home.'

"Hello dear, you must be Harry."

Harry jumped slightly, and turned around to look for the owner of the voice. A plump woman, with a smiling face matching the one on the clock, was standing in one of the doorways to the room. She sported a slightly worn robe with an apron tied over it.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

Harry smiled, shaking his head slightly. "It's OK, I'm just slightly dazed from the floo. I am indeed Harry, and you must be Mrs. Weasley?"

"That's me. Welcome to the Burrow. I'm not sure if you have had anything to eat yet – I just made some fresh biscuits, so let me know if you feel peckish. I'm still waiting for Ginny to come down from her room."

"Ginny?"

"Yes, she's my youngest. I don't want to leave her alone, so I thought I'd take her along with us. Would that be OK with you."

Harry smiled widely. "Of course."

"Wonderful. I'll go upstairs and see what's taking her so long. Help yourself to some biscuits – the kitchen is just through there." Mrs. Weasley walked back through the doorway, and Harry was by himself once again. He took a seat on one of the couches, and waited. After a couple of minutes, he heard approaching voices.

"…I'd expect this sort of thing from Fred and George – not from you, mum."

"He's right through that door, look for yourself if you don't believe me."

A slight red-haired girl roughly Harry's own age stepped through the door. At first, she was frowning, but her mouth dropped open when her gaze fell on his scar. She tried to say something, but quickly gave up on that and dashed out the door. Harry heard her footsteps patter away as she went up the stairs. Mrs. Weasley popped her head into the doorway.

"I'm sorry Harry, she is a bit shy. Let me go talk to her."

Mrs. Weasely disappeared once again, and Harry groaned quietly. This was taking forever. He had an irrational fear that all the brooms would be sold out by the time they got there – or the good ones at least. Lunch had been less than an hour ago, but Harry decided that he might be less anxious if he was chewing something. He got off the couch and walked into the kitchen, and grabbed a biscuit off the tray sitting on the stove. They were quite good, very flaky. The kitchen seemed well stocked – more so than the one at Privet Drive. It looked like Mrs. Weasley spent a lot of time here.

A few minutes later, Harry heard approaching footsteps and returned to the living room. Mrs. Weasley had Ginny in tow, although the latter was trying to hide behind her mother. Mrs. Weasley smiled at Harry, mouthing 'give her time.'

"I suppose we are all ready then. Would you like to go first, Harry? The floo powder is in the flowerpot on top of the mantelpiece. Our destination is Quality Quiditch Supplies."

Harry nodded, and stepped up to the floo. A fistful of powder later, he disappeared in a whirl of flames. As he emerged on the others side, he was struck by the rows and rows of broomsticks filling the store. There looked to be at least a hundred spread out across racks along the walls. Glass display cases were scattered here and there, with what he assumed to be a particularly expensive broom in each one. He walked towards a nearby case and read the description.

'Custom Comet 240, modeled after 1990 world cup Irish National Team brooms, signed by team captain.'

The broomstick itself was glossy, and not a tail twig looked out of place. Harry heard somebody clear his throat, and turned around to see an elderly blond man in a dress robe stylized to look like a quidditch uniform.

"Hello there, young man. I see the Comet caught your eye."

Harry nodded slowly. "Do you sell the Comet 250 series?"

The man smiled, shaking his head softly. "I do, but you look rather young – Hogwarts first year?"

"Yes."

"As I'm sure you know, you can't have your own broomstick in the castle. You may look around as you please, but I can't sell you anything capable of flight."

"I have special permission from the headmaster. I play seeker for one of the house teams, and the school broom I was using caught flames."

The man frowned. "Come now, you could have just left the joke at playing seeker as a first year. The broom catching fire makes it too unbelievable."

"It's true."

"Ok then, I suppose you won't mind me flooing your head of house to confirm?"

"Suit yourself. My head of house is professor Snape."

The shop owner nodded curtly, before walking towards a small fireplace behind the counter. Meanwhile, Harry spotted Ginny stepping out of the fireplace. The lines on her face vanished as she looked around the room. Harry took a few steps towards her.

"Are you a quidditch fan?"

"Yeah," she answered, still looking at a nearby rack of broomsticks. She seemed to forget who she was talking to - her shyness fading away at the prospect of quidditch talk. "I fly around whenever I can get my hands on a broom. Sometimes I join my older brothers for a game near…" She trailed off as she turned her head and realized she was speaking to Harry.

Harry quickly followed up. "Me too. I play for a house team at Hogwarts."

"Really! What position do you play?"

"Seeker."

"That's my favorite position!" Ginny was nearly shouting at this point, and a few people were starting to look their way. Harry tried to maneuver behind one of the broom racks. Ginny didn't pay them any attention.

"Are you in Gryffindor? My brothers, Fred and George, are beaters. What am I saying? I'm sure you know them already…."

"I play for Slytherin."

"Oh…" Ginny seemed at a loss for words, but recovered after a few seconds, her face animated once more. "That's OK. You're probably better off. You won't have to put up with any of their pranks. They like to play these stupid jokes on me every chance they get…" Ginny kept blabbing on about her brothers, and Harry wished he could have the shy Ginny back. Fortunately, Mrs. Weasley soon stepped out of the fireplace.

"I really should invest in a faster connection…" she muttered. Her eyes scanned the room before settling on Harry and Ginny. "There you are! I'm glad to see you two are getting along!" She quickly walked over to them. "Have you seen anything you like, Harry?"

Harry shook his head. "I haven't really had a chance to browse yet."

"Well, let's have a look then."

For the few minutes, the trio walked around the perimeter of the showroom. Harry spotted several Nimbus 2000s on a display rack near the front of the store. After taking a look at the Cleansweep 7, he was leaning towards Draco's recommendation. Just as he was beginning to wonder what had happened to the shopkeeper, the man reappeared.

"My apologies Mr. Potter. Your head of house is a difficult man to get ahold off."

"It's ok, sir. He has been rather busy lately. Thank you for looking into it."

The man smiled. "No thanks is necessary – I was just doing my job. I didn't mean to put your word into question, but every first year that comes through here has a new scheme for how to trick me into selling him a broom." The shopkeeper looked at Mrs. Weasley and Ginny. "Are you Mr. Potter's guardian?"

"No, I'm just accompanying him on this trip today."

"Wonderful. Do you mind if I use a privacy bubble briefly? I have to ask him about a quidditch incident that took place recently, and it would be best if can speak freely."

The woman frowned slightly, but nodded her head. "If you must."

The man pulled out his wand, and quietly intoned a spell that Harry didn't recognize. A shimmering bubble appeared around the two of them, and all outside conversation faded away to an incomprehensible murmur. Harry also noticed that the surroundings outside the bubble were blurry, making it difficult to make out the details of Mrs. Weasley's face.

"Now then, this should afford us some privacy. Don't be alarmed, I merely wish to ask you about how exactly your previous broom caught fire. It's a very rare occurrence, you see, and a better understanding of it may be useful when picking your new broom."

Harry delved into a detailed explanation of the quidditch match – similar to the one he had given to professor Snape. The shopkeeper's eyes widened at a few moments, but he remained silent until Harry had finished speaking.

"A fascinating tale. I've only ever heard of two other people blowing out their brooms – neither one was as young as you. This may be unprecedented. Tell me, how much do you know about how brooms are made?"

Harry shrugged. "Nothing at all, sir. I assume they are like wands? A wizard wills the broom to fly, and it uses his magic to do so?"

The shopkeeper smiled, his eyes crinkling. "A good guess, but there are some caveats. Modern brooms have many enhancements built in to draw magic from the rider and strip away intent. Unlike with a wand, the wizard is not channeling his magic through the broom. Rather, the broom is channeling the wizard's own magic back through him."

Harry frowned. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"Think about it this way. You can't really work with a broom the same way you would with a wand. You can't cast sparks with your broom, or use it to levitate objects. The only thing it will do is help you fly, because that is what it was enchanted to do. On top of that, there are additional enchantments limiting the velocity, turning speed, and other factors – all to prevent the flier from killing himself with ill-advised maneuvers. Most wizards do not have very good control of their intent – or their magic – and a broom unbound by such enhancements could prove disastrous. Instead, modern brooms pull a finite amount of magic from the flier, and channel that magic into a levitation enhancement in a very carefully calibrated way."

The man leaned forward slightly. "Let me tell you a little secret. The Nimbus, the Cleansweep, the Comet… they are all extremely similar when it comes down to the hardware. They just have slightly different enhancements and unique cosmetic designs."

Harry nodded. "So why did my broom combust?"

"Well, the broom is designed to only pull a certain amount of magic from you. At a maximum, the amount of magic needed to move you at the broom's highest rated speed. You willed the broom to fly at a greater speed, and somehow broke through several enchantments designed to prevent this. Your magic overloaded the broom, and the rest is history."

"That... makes sense."

"Now, that leads me to a suggestion. By all accounts, you are an excellent flier. You've done well with the Comet 60 or whatever shabby broom you were forced to fly at Hogwarts. During my conversation with professor Snape, he mentioned you have unusual control over your magic for one as young as you. There may be another option – one better suited for you than the brooms we have out here."

"What's that?"

"The brooms used at the highest levels of quidditch – in the professional teams and above – are different than the ones sitting on those shelves. They are what I call 'unlocked'. Protective enhancements are kept to a minimum in order to allow for higher speeds and maneuverability. Professional players can use this to push their brooms to new limits. Naturally, current ministry regulations prevent the public from obtaining such brooms – and for good reason – unlocked brooms are difficult to control if you lack substantial skill."

"So… can I get one of these unlocked brooms."

The blond man laughed. "No, we don't even stock any of them. The broom manufacturers ship them directly to the players. However, I can give you something close. Before '52, the laws were much more lenient. A handful of small manufacturers built custom brooms for wealthy clientele. These were mainly used for racing, and a relatively small number were produced overall. I don't think any saw professional use in quidditch. After all, there was no point. Professional quidditch players already had access to unlocked brooms, and by going with a quidditch company's brooms, they also got sponsorship money. In a way, one of the main roles of high end quidditch brooms is to sell cheaper 'locked' brooms to the masses. Every year, people pony up money to buy a dumbed down version of whatever broom the previous year's world cup winners were flying."

Harry stared at the man blankly.

"Sorry about that. I tend to go on tangents when I get excited about brooms. Here's the deal. I have an old Silver Arrow in my possession. It was built way back in 1949 – before the current laws were put into place, and has been grandfathered in. It is still in very good shape. This line of brooms was used by officers in the war against Grindelwald… they are designed to take a beating. I'm getting on in age, and it's becoming a bit too much for me to handle. I want you to have it."

Harry paused for a moment. "Wow… that would be incredible. Thank you."

"You're welcome. It's not every day Harry Potter walks into my shop. Tell you what… when you become a famous quidditch player one day, you can dedicate one of your trophies to me."

Harry giggled. "I'll be sure to do that."

"Fantastic. I'll have the broom dropped off with professor Snape. I wouldn't want to cause a scene at lunchtime now, would I?"

"That would be awesome. How much do I owe you?"

The shopkeeper put up his hand. "Nothing. Consider this a token of my appreciation for defeating he-who-must-not-be-named. Besides, I'm not even sure if I can legally sell you this broom. Giving it away is a bit of a gray area, but I am retiring in March, so I don't really give a hoot." The old man winked at Harry, and dispelled the bubble with a sweep of his wand.

"That's all then. It was nice meeting you Mr. Potter. Your broom should arrive sometime this evening. Have a good day." The man nodded curtly in Mrs. Weasely's direction, and walked away.

"Is that all then Harry?"

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley. I think we can go now."

"Don't you need to pay for the broom?"

"No, it's already covered."

"Alright then, on we go."

Harry insisted on being the first one back through the floo. Unfortunately, Ginny simply waited until she was on the other side before asking him a dozen questions about his conversation with the shopkeeper – all of which he diverted towards innocuous quidditch talk. When it was time for him to leave the Burrow, Mrs. Weasley insisted on sending some biscuits along with him. He halfheartedly refused before ultimately giving in. They were rather tasty after all. On the whole, he was impressed with this half of the Weasleys. Maybe they weren't as bad as he had initially assumed. At least not all of them - he still didn't care for Ron.


	14. Pitch Black

Late on Saturday evening, a bored looking second year delivered a note to Harry's room. The note was written in the same hurried scrawl Snape liked to use when he was grading essays, and consisted of a single line – 'the broom is here.' Harry threw down his transfiguration textbook like it was on fire, and rushed out to collect his parcel.

After the fastest walk of his life - one that turned a few heads in the hallways - Harry arrived at Snape's door. He didn't suspect anyone had ever been this excited to see the man. Oddly, the potions master didn't seem to share his sentiment. He looked haggard, with dark circles underneath his eyes and an all around unkempt appearance.

"The package is on that table. Take it and get out."

"Thank you, professor."

Harry did as he was told. By now, he knew not to disturb Snape when he was in such a mood. On top of that, the prospect of unwrapping the package was so exciting that he did not wish to linger. A few minutes later, he was at the door to the Slytherin common room. He tried to walk directly to the boy's dorm, but the distinctly broom-shaped package drew some attention from a couple of third years.

"Hey Potter, what do you have there?"

He was so flustered from half running back to the common room that he couldn't think of a genuine sounding reply.

"Nothing..."

"Come on, let us see it…"

"You'll see it when we play the 'Puffs next weekend."

Harry tried to step around the boy closest to him, but he moved to block his path. Harry thought about drawing his wand, but realized the odds were not in his favor.

"Leave him alone, Slade." He turned around to see Gemma staring at the other boy, arms on her hips. Slade sighed loudly and stepped aside. Harry waved to his prefect and quickly stepped into the dorm. As soon as he reached his room, he shut the door behind and placed the package on his bed. After tearing the brown wrapping paper off, he couldn't help but gasp as he took in the broom.

Instead of twigs, as with most of the other brooms Harry had seen in the store, this tail consisted of large black feathers bound together with silver wire. Two metallic grey footrests protruded from the band joining the tail and the body of the broom. The shaft was made of a dark wood, and polished to a glossy sheen. The very tip of the shaft – about ten centimeters in length – was capped with silver and embossed with an arrow.

Harry gingerly picked up the broom. Immediately, he felt a stark difference in sensation compared to the comets in the broom shed. This broom felt more alive – even hungry… if that was possible. Closer to a wand than anything else. It also felt twice as heavy as the broom that had caught fire. Nonetheless, it had a very streamlined look about it, and Harry was eager to try it out.

He contemplated heading out to the pitch, but it would be far too dark out to see anything. The shopkeeper had said unlocked brooms could be dangerous even in good conditions, so Harry decided not to push his good fortune. If he knew Slytherin, word would have gotten out by the very next morning, and Theo would undoubtedly drag him out to the quidditch pitch by lunchtime at the latest.

Instead, he put away his broom and grabbed his transfiguration book and writing supplies. McGonagall had assigned an essay the previous week, and he couldn't count on having much time to work on it on Sunday. Fortunately, nobody stopped him on his way out of the common room. When he reached the library, he was unsurprised to see Hermione at her usual table. Oddly, Neville and Boris were sitting with her. She saw him just as he saw them, and beckoned Harry to their table.

"Neville, 'mione, Boris… I see you feel a thirst for knowledge on this fine evening." Harry plopped his bag down next to Neville and began unpacking his quill and parchment.

Borris scoffed. "No thirst here – I just want to finish this stupid Transfiguration essay, and Hermione here is my only chance at a passing grade."

"It's NOT stupid, and you should have more confidence in yourself." Neville rolled his eyes as Hermione shot back at Boris.

"Really? When am I ever going to need to transfigure something into a flock of birds? And I have plenty of confidence – just not in Transfiguration."

"Well, you might need to do it for the final practical at the end of the year? Don't you care about your marks?"

"Come on guys," Neville pleaded, "let's just get through this essay, and then we won't have to even think about transfiguration until Tuesday."

"I'm with Neville on this one. How far did you guys get before I got here?"

Hermione turned towards Harry. "I finished the essay last night. I'm helping Neville and Boris with the introduction, so you can catch up quickly."

"Fantastic."

The essay took them most of the evening, with the Gryffindor trio finishing slightly before Harry. When he got back to his room, he fell asleep as soon as he hit the mattress, dreaming of snitches and brooms.

* * *

As Harry had predicted, all the Slytherin first years knew about his broom by Sunday morning. When he sat down for breakfast, Theo didn't waste any time in grilling him.

"Did you get the Cleansweep?"

"Nope."

Draco clapped Theo on the back. "I told you he'd go with the Nimbus."

"I didn't."

Draco turned around, his eyebrows halfway up his forehead. "Surely you didn't buy a comet?"

"No, I got a silver arrow."

"Never heard of that. Is it a new model?"

"It's this really old broom – my grandfather has one in his collection. He says it can go really fast, but he never lets me touch it," answered Pansy, pouncing on the chance to inform Draco.

"I think I've heard of it. They didn't make very many of them, and it's been discontinued since ages ago. I don't think it was ever meant for quidditch, but you might be able to make it work. I still don't get why you didn't buy the Cleansweep though."

Theo's reference to the Cleansweep launched another round of debate about which broom was superior that didn't simmer down until after they had finished breakfast. By then most everybody at the table felt like playing quidditch, so they decided to have a scrimmage. Harry, Draco and Theo walked down to the dungeons so that he Harry could fetch his broom. The two other boys were trading jabs along the way.

"I'm going to have father send me a Nimbus. I can give you one of my older models if you like?"

"Very funny Draco. Sure, you can give me a Nimbus. Maybe I'll teach you how to ride yours."

They kept up their banter all the way to the shed, and by the time they got there, Harry was anxious to take to the skies. Vincent, Greggory, Runcorn, Pansy, and Millicent were already there, brooms in hand. One of them had even found a quaffle. As the two house quidditch players, Harry and Draco got to pick out their teams.

Harry got Theo, Greggory, and Millicent. He had never played the role of captain before, so he wasn't quite sure what to do. Fortunately, Theo was more than happy to take over as strategist so that Harry could focus exclusively on beating Draco to the snitch.

As soon as Harry kicked off the ground, he realized how difficult his new broom was to control. It was much more sensitive than the comet he had been using. When he tried to go up, he would go **UP**. He flew a couple of practice loops around the pitch, trying to weave in and out between the stands. Halfway on the second go, he nearly decapitated himself on one of the beams. A bit shaken, he abandoned his laps and joined Draco in looking for the snitch. They weren't playing with bludgers, so at least he didn't have to worry about that.

A few meters beneath him, their Slytherin friends were busy with the quaffle. None of them had any serious experience, so the game quickly devolved into keep-away. Theo was constantly shouting directions at Millicent and Greggory, but the latter two looked content with ignoring his instructions.

After about ten minutes of circling around, Harry spotted the snitch moving diagonally down towards the northeast corner of the pitch. He immediately dropped into a dive. His heart skipped a beat as acceleration of his broom pulled his body backwards. It had to be going twice as fast as the Comet. Near the ground, the snitch veered to the left. Harry cursed, and yanked the broom handle towards the snitch. He realized his mistake a split second after as the maneuver sent him into an uncontrolled spin. He wrestled back his balance – just barely – but by then Draco had a lead.

A quick glance towards the center of the field revealed that quaffle play had stopped and both teams were watching the snitch pursuit. Harry bent down over his broom and willed it forward. This time, he was expecting to be jerked back by the acceleration, so he was able to counter it. With each second, he chipped couple of few meters off Draco's lead. Soon, he was a hand's length away.

Unfortunately, the snitch chose that moment to pitch upwards. Draco easily pulled up, but Harry's attempt to follow suit put him into a sloth roll. Before he could recover, the other boy had caught the snitch. They landed on the ground, where the rest of their teams were waiting. Draco's chasers started congratulating him, while Theo approached Harry.

"What happened out there? You were flying like an owl that's gotten into the firewhiskey."

Harry shrugged. "I think my broom is more sensitive than I'm used to. It's fast as lightning when I'm flying in a straight line, but as soon as I have to turn, I tend to lose control."

"OK. Well, keep at it."

They played three more games. To his disappointment, Harry caught the snitch only once. At the same time, it was clear as day that his broom was much faster than any of the school brooms. The only issue was controlling it, and that would come with time.

* * *

On Wednesday morning, Snape was feeling better than he had in weeks. The end was finally in sight. The hard work was over. All that remained was to wait two more nights before adding the final ingredient of the potion – the vampire's blood collected by Dumbledore. Not only that, but his time-saving modifications to the potion would likely gain him a page or two in an international potions journal.

As he was walking out of the great hall, Snape felt a presence at his side. Turning, he realized it was Hestia. He had been so busy with brewing and teaching over the past couple of weeks that her existence hadn't even crossed his mind.

"What do you want, Jones?"

She pouted back.

"Is that how you say hello? You've been sulking lately, so I'm just checking if you are OK?"

"I don't sulk – I've been busy with a potion. Besides, you made it clear you don't care for my presence."

Hestia sighed heavily. "Are you still brooding over the dueling club? Seeing as how you've been so busy lately, it's probably better I didn't ask you to help, no?"

Snape shrugged. "Perhaps. What about you? What have you been doing lately?"

She smiled brightly. "That's more like it! I've been busy too. I have to plan lessons as I go along – what with being a new professor. The dueling club takes up most of the rest of my time. "

Snape yawned, and Hestia narrowed her eyes at him.

"I'm going to be accompanying the third years to Hogsmeade this weekend. Seeing as how I've never been there before, I thought it might be handy to have another professor accompany me. I was going to ask you, but it seems like you find me boring…"

"It's not that… I'm just tired," Snape blurted, rubbing his eyes with one hand. "I should be done by this weekend. Just drop by my office when it's time to leave."

"Merlin, Severus. We haven't even been to Hogsmeade yet, and you're already inviting me to your quarters."

Snape jerked up his head, scowling. "Five seconds after agreeing, and I am already starting to regret it…"

"See you this weekend!"

Hestia left Snape's side, and he continued walking towards his office, slowly shaking his head. Potions could be complicated, but women were downright unsolvable.

* * *

Just before noon on Saturday, Dumbledore received a floo call from Snape. He deactivated the security spells, and the potions master stepped through the fire place. Oddly, Severus was dressed in nicer robes than the ones he typically wore, and his hair appeared to be recently washed. In his hands, he held a small crystal flask containing a few drops of a pitch-black liquid.

"Good Morning, Severus. I take it this is the tracking potion?"

The man nodded curtly. "Yes. When you drink the contents, you should feel a tug. Follow it, and it will lead you to Quirrel."

"Thank you… I understand completing this potion is a cause for celebration, but I still can't help but wonder at the cause for your attire today," Dumbledore added with a smile.

"I am going to be accompanying the third years to Hogsmeade."

"Ah, to be young and free. Perhaps you will meet a nice witch at Hog's Head."

Snape stared back blankly. "Perhaps you will drink the potion now?"

Dumbledore frowned. "Is it time sensitive?"

"No… but calling it a complicated potion is an understatement. I want to be around when you drink it in case something goes horribly wrong and I need to apply the counter-potion."

"Ah, how reassuring. In that case, I will keep you in suspense no longer." Dumbledore downed the flask with a practiced movement.

"How do you feel?"

Dumbledore smiled. "I can't say I care for the taste, but physically I feel fine." His eyes widened a bit. "I feel the tug now."

"Very good. Take this vial. Drink it when you wish to cancel the effect of the tracking potion."

Dumbledore took the second vial, and waved to Severus as he stepped back through the fireplace. With a flick of his wand, he reset the security charm. Fawkes flew from his perch, and landed on the headmaster's outstretched arm.

"Ready for an adventure?"

The phoenix cooed softly, and the duo disappeared in a flash of flames.

When the phoenix-fire vanished, Dumbledore found himself in a dense forest at the base of a valley. He recognized the trees as old growth oak and beech. The canopy above him was think, blocking out much of the sunlight.

With a soft hoot, Fawkes disappeared in a burst of flames. Phoenixes as a rule did not like dark or confined spaces, and Dumbledore saw no reason to keep his companion at hand for the time being. After all, their mental connection made Fawkes easily accessible should his aid be needed.

Alone, Dumbledore pressed on through the forest. His progress was hampered by the foliage and debris covering the ground. Consequently, he had to clear his own path using a variant of the severing charm. Despite this, he found the experience enjoyable. The air had that unmistakable earthy scent found only in the woods, and the birds chirping all about him produced a rustic melody that reminded him of his childhood forays into the countryside.

If it weren't for the steady tug of the potion working its magic, Dumbledore might have forgotten he had a job to do. As it was, the tug was incrementally growing stronger. Proportionally, Dumbledore felt a rising unease. He focused outwards, attempting to sense any magical traps or hazards in the surroundings. There was nothing. As he pressed on, he landed on the source of his discomfort. The birds had stopped chirping.

Light too was growing scarcer with each meter he walked. He had set out on his journey at midday, so it was far too early for sunset. Undoubtedly, whatever kept away the birds was responsible for this phenomenon as well.

Just as the tugging sensation of the potion was beginning to feel unbearably strong, Dumbledore saw something different. A curved line of trees jutted out of the ground just ahead. Their trunks were twice as large as any before them. The bark was crumbly and rotting, but they stood upright as if defying death.

Dumbledore raised his wand, and a pulsing orb of red light emerged from the tip. Slowly, he turned sideways and squeezed through a gap between two of the tree trunks. On the other side, it became apparent that the strange trees were arranged in a circle of two dozen meters in diameter. At the center lay a raised mound. It was a bit shorter than Dumbledore, but quite wide.

He walked around the mound. As he did so, he noticed it was getting harder to see. The orb of light he had conjured was dimming quickly. Strange. This sort of magic-dampening effect was uncommon. After a few seconds of deliberation, he realized what he was looking at.

It had to be a tumulus – an ancient barrow used by shamans and primitive wizards during the bronze age. Those were trying times, and no one was safe, not even the dead. Sapping wards such as this were used to deter necromancers and pillagers. The practice had died out during classical times; the rituals used to create the barrows were long forgotten. On top of that, no two tumuli were exactly alike.

He had no idea what Quirrell was doing in such a place, let alone how he could have found one. These barrows were exceptionally well concealed. On the other side of the mound, Dumbledore discovered the entrance – a stone lined hole about a meter in diameter. He would have to crawl through.

With a weary sigh, Dumbledore sent out a mental call for Fawkes. The Phoenix would be able to illuminate the small passage far better as its magic would not be sapped by the tumulus' wards. When nothing came, Dumbledore redoubled his efforts. Two minutes and one migraine later, Fawkes appeared. The wards were stronger than he would have expected considering how long they must have lain dormant.

After a quick look at the dark surroundings, the phoenix ignited its feathers. The profusion of light cast wild shadows around the edges of the barrow. Dumbledore gestured towards the uninviting hole.

"After you, my friend?"

Fawkes glared at him for a few seconds, then raised its head haughtily.

"I promise you a month's supply of treats. Surely you will help an old man?"

The phoenix remained silent for a minute. Ultimately, it hoped into the tunnel. Dumbledore slowly lowered himself to his knees, silently cursing his aging joints. The walk here hadn't been easy, and it didn't look like the day was going to get any better. The tunnel inclined downwards in a spiral, and Fawkes hopped along just a meter ahead of its master.

After what felt like an eternity of crawling, the tunnel widened to reveal an antechamber. The carvings on the walls depicted bronze age scenes, consistent with Dumbledore's hypothesis. He couldn't suppress a small smile. That minor triumph fled all too quickly as his eyes fell on the still figures lying on the ground just underneath the walls.

He moved towards the nearest one, beckoning Fawkes to follow. As light swept over the figure, Dumbledore realized that the head had been removed, and the body was drained of blood. The skin was withered and the muscle emaciated. Either it had been lying here for a very long time, or the wards were feeding on the residual magic of the corpse. A deep bite mark on what remained of the neck confirmed that it was the latter scenario.

This had to be Quirrell's doing. He must have fed on the bodies for sustenance. Dumbledore grimaced. He was hoping that Quirrell would have been able to control himself – at least long enough for help to arrive. The letter the man had sent was coherent and would have required at least some shred of sanity to write.

Shaking his head, Dumbledore stepped over the body and towards the next tunnel. This one was much larger than the first had been. He would no longer need to crawl, but merely had to hunch over. Fawkes did not need to be asked to lead the way.

After thirty seconds of walking, Dumbledore emerged into the main chamber. It was a large dome about a quarter the size of Hogwart's great hall. A large stone sarcophagus dominated the center, and smaller tombs were scattered in a circle around these foci.

 _"Avada kedavra!"_

Dumbledore slashed his wand upward, simultaneously throwing himself to the floor. Four tomb-lids hurtled towards him, forming a square around his prone body. He expected to hear the sound of cracking stone. Instead, he heard Fawkes' agonized screech as he burst into flames. He tried to jump to his feet, but rising seemed oddly exhausting.

"Save your strength, old fool."

"Quirinus?"

Dumbledore flicked his wand downwards, and the tomb lids dropped to the floor. He whirled about, keeping his wand ready. It was impossible to see anything in the pitch-black chamber. With Fawkes gone, the only light source were the Phoenix's smoldering ashes.

"Agghh"

A sharp pain exploded in the side of Dumbledore's neck. He raised his wand above his head, closing his eyes.

 _"Solis erupto!"_

Through his eyelids, he could still see the blinding flash of light. A guttural screech from behind reassured him that the vampire was at least temporarily disabled. He pressed his off hand against his neck to stem some of the flowing blood, turning around as he did so. The skin on his hand felt taut. If he made it out of this mess, he would have one hell of a sunburn in a few hours.

After opening his eyes, he could vaguely make out a figure by the glowing patches of burnt skin. While the spell had hurt Dumbledore, it had done far greater damage on the vampire. Dumbledore tried to take a step backwards, but nearly collapsed on the floor. Using any magic seemed to be costly indeed in the magic-sapping environment of the chamber.

The Vampire was breathing heavily, pained by his wounds - horrid looking burns down to the muscle. "You… fool. Didn't you read… the letter?"

"I did."

"Then what… are you doing here?"

"Did you really think I wouldn't check up on one of my employees leaving under such suspicious circumstances?"

The vampire leaned against one of the tombs Dumbledore had opened with his spell. He pulled out a mummified limb, then crushed it in his hand.

"Bone dry… It's been weeks since my last meal. The locals here know better than to wander through this valley. It has had reputation of being cursed for for as long as they can remember – my escapades here certainly did not… improve things."

Dumbledore took a step back, appraising his options. He nearly smacked himself on the head when he realized what he had overlooked. Slowly, he began to reach for the inner pocket of his travel cloak.

"Why did you do this, Quirinus? I saw that woman's memories – you risked your life… your humanity… to save her. I would have made sure no harm befell you when you returned to Britain."

The Vampire laughed hoarsely. "And do what? Spend eternity in a… dusty coven? Forever under the watchful eye of the ministry… not to mention yourself… I think not. Besides, you are missing something."

"Oh, what's that?"

"Quirinius isn't here…" With a roar, the vampire lunged forward. His inhuman speed was inhibited by his injuries, but he was nevertheless impressive to behold. Dumbledore slashed his wand, repelling the vampire back with a burst of air. It was a conservative choice, but the spell still sapped a good deal of his remaining strength. The blood he lost with each heart-beat was not helping either.

"That's it, old man. Keep… wasting your strength. The… great Albus Dumbledore, unable to use magic."

"What do you mean, Quirinius isn't here?"

The vampire laughed once again, this time off to Dumbledore's right side. The headmaster finally had the device in his hand. He clicked the button.

A bright orb of light burst into existence and rose to the ceiling. With the room suddenly bright as day, Dumbledore could see his enemy clearly. Some of Quirrell's features were still there, but they were marred by advanced vampirism. There was something else too… another influence.

The vampire snarled, shielding his sensitive eyes with one hand. "How can you do this? The wards in this place should sap all magic."

Dubmbledore smiled cordially, now reaching for another pocket. "It's a deluminator – or I suppose a illuminator in this instance. One of my inventions. It stores electric light – a muggle source of illumination. It is less magical than anything I can produce with my wand."

The vampire growled. "Even so… it is already slowly fading."

Dubmbledore took another step away from the creature. He nearly tripped on a tomb, but managed to catch his balance before he fell.

"Too true. I answered your question, will you answer mine? Where is Quirinius?"

The vampire lowered his hand, and stared at Dumbledore once more. The waning light cast shadows under his brow. "I suppose… there is no harm in telling you now. After all… the great Albus Dumbledore will be dead soon. Quirinius' body stands before you, but his mind is locked away. I AM LORD VOLDEMORT."

Dumbledore felt a brief shock surge through his chest, but between blood loss and magical exhaustion, he was too weary to panic. His hand was nearly on the other wand, the one that called to him every waking moment, and in his dreams too. The one he had sworn he would not use.

"Do you fear me now… old man? Your magic cannot save you. I will rend your throat. Your blood will heal my wounds. With you gone, I will return to Britain unopposed."

Dumbledore could not hear Tom's taunting. Now that his hand was wrapped around the knotted wood, he heard another, louder voice in his head.

 **"Killll himmm"**

The vampire – Tom – Quirrinus, took another step forward. It was all too confusing. Dumbledore could barely think, let alone block out the siren-like song of the elder wand. His reluctance shattered by pain and imminent doom, he gave in to the wand's call and pulled it from his cloak.

With a wide sweep of the cursed wand, he tore the main sarcophagus off the ground, and threw it over Quirrel. The vampire struggled against his stone prison, but there was little he could do. After all, the wand was death incarnate. Even the magic sapping wards of the tumulus could not negate such sheer power.

 _"Gooood. Sunder him… crush his bones into dust. Seal his broken body beneath this poisoned soil…"_

Dumbledore struck his temple with his palm, tears of desperation trickling down his dusty cheeks. He knew that if he gave in now, the voice would only grow louder. It would grow stronger with each death until it would be impossible to ignore its command. Much about the wand was a mystery, but one thing was certain – murder made it stronger, and it could never be sated.

A string of destructive curses was on his lips. With every last fiber of self-control, Dumbledore uttered another incantation – one turning the stone of the sarcophagus into impregnable crystal. He fell to his knees, tiredly crawling towards the trapped vampire.

"Kill me… I will rise again… for I am Lord Voldemort… and you are but a man."

Dumbledore rested his back against the crystal sarcophagus. "I shall not kill you." He placed the death stick in his cloak with a trembling hand, it's presence screaming in his mind as it faded away – still present but muted.

"I will die here, Tom. You were right about that. I will go to whatever lies beyond. You, however, will not rise again. You will rot in this tomb for centuries before you succumb to thirst."

The vampire sneered, his face distorted through the crystal. "I cannot die… you fool. Be that as it may… I do not wish to linger here for centuries. Quirinius' corpse will keep you company. I… will find a more suitable host."

Dumbledore fell to the ground, turning his head towards the sarcophagus. He saw Quirinius' body shudder, and a translucent mist emerge from its chest. The soul attempted to escape through the sarcophagus. It promptly bounced back.

Minutes ticked by as Tom repeatedly tried to escape, each attempt more futile than the last. He had no doubt figured out that his prison was no ordinary crystal, for it had been conjured by death itself. As the magic-sapping ward tugged at the unprotected soul, Tom tried to return to Quirinius' body, but it was minutes too late. As Tom faded into oblivion, Dumbledore heard the elder wand's cry of triumph in his mind. The wand had claimed another soul. Another mark in its long list of victims.

As Dumbledore began to drift towards the afterlife – he felt something blocking the way. He shuddered when he realized it was the wand. The parasitic entity would not let him die without a new master. Bolstered by the fresh kill, it had the strength to keep him alive for the time being.

After what felt like an hour in purgatory, Dumbledore heard a faint rustling coming his way. He ignored the aching in his neck and turned his head towards the source. It was a baby chick – Fawkes – hopping towards him. At least his friend would live on.

Dumbledore stirred as the Phoenix reached him. His eyes widened when he realized what his familiar was about to do. Grown Phoenixes could produce tears that could heal nearly any injury, but the freshly hatched Fawkes was not anywhere near that stage. He could still heal, but at price. Fawkes could save Dumbledore - at the cost of his own life.

Dumbledore tried to shake his head side to side. "No… Fawkes. Leave… me."

Fawkes ignored the command and hopped towards the bleeding neck wound. Dumbledore involuntarily groaned with relief when the bird produced tears directly over the bite. Within minutes, he had the strength to rise to his elbows. Fawkes, on the other hand, was dying.

Its breast was still rising and falling, but the Phoenix was growing colder by the second. Dumbledore quickly scooped up his friend, and began to crawl towards the exit. By the time he got to the antechamber, he was walking, albeit painfully. Fawkes, on the other hand, was dead.


	15. Witches and Brooms

Snape stepped out of the fireplace and into Hestia's office. This was the first time he had set foot in the room since the previous school year. The new DADA professor had added quite a few decorations to what had once been a spartan office – even by his own standards. Snape cleared his throat, and he heard her cry out "one moment!" from the adjacent bedroom chamber. He used to opportunity to examine one of the new paintings more closely.

Nearly all magical art he had seen before was of people, creatures, or historical scenes. This one was different in that it consisted of a smattering of colorful swirling brush-strokes, each one moving independently. Sometimes they coalesced into a recognizable figure, but for the most part they depicted nothing at all. Snape was trying to pick out one of the newly forming shapes when he heard her approach.

"Do you like it?"

Snape frowned, tilting his head slightly. "I'm not sure what 'it' is. I've never seen a painting like this."

Hestia laughed lightly. "A honest answer. It's a new style of painting – as far as I know, there is only one witch that makes them – she lives over in Upper Flagley. It's meant to look different from moment to moment."

Snape remained silent. A group of green strokes seemed to be merging into a familiar shape - one he did not wish to remember, yet carried on his forearm.

"Shall we head out then? The students should already be waiting in the courtyard."

Snape nodded, tearing his gaze away from the artwork. He did a slight double-take when he saw Hestia's outfit. She wore a peach-colored robe with red rose motifs. Her hair was wound up in an elaborate bun likely fresh off the cover of witches weekly. She caught him staring.

"Fancy this robe?"

Snape cleared his throat. "Very festive. Perhaps not entirely appropriate for a professor?"

"Come now, we are going to Hogsmeade. Surely we can swap out the drab school robes for something nicer." She turned around and began walking towards the door. Snape stepped in sync.

"It's the third years that are going to Hogsmeade. We are chaperones. We have a responsibility, you know."

Hestia waved flicked her hand aside as she opened the door. "Hogwash. What could possible happen? I don't think any student would step out of bounds when I have the ferocious professor Snape accompanying me. We won't have any problems."

Snape felt his cheeks redden. They walked in silence all the way down to the grand staircase.

"Harry's doing quite well in Duelling. Easily the best first year I have."

"What of it?"

"He told me you've been teaching him on the side." She turned her head towards him, locking eyes. Snape stared back coolly, but had to avert his gaze when she smirked. "You wouldn't happen to be trying to show me up?"

Snape scoffed – perhaps a bit too loudly. "Not at all. I look after all my charges, and Potter.. err.. Harry, shows a great deal of promise." Hestia grinned widely, and he began to feel a bit annoyed. "Besides, why would I want to do that. I don't care about the DADA post, I'm quite happy with my tenure in potions."

"That's not what I've heard," she teased.

"You shouldn't put faith in rumors."

They were nearly at the courtyard now, and Snape felt tempted to walk faster. The witch besides him put her finger on her chin. "I also heard you drew a giant heart with our initials on it outside your classroom a couple of weeks ago. Was that a rumor too?"

Snape groaned loudly, abandoning all remnants of composure. "I swear on Merlin's beard, the next time I see those two dolts I will transfigure them into cat treats and feed them to Mrs Norris."

Hestia giggled. As much as she annoyed him, Snape had to admit that he enjoyed hearing her laugh. "I suppose it was Fred and George that did it?"

"Who else?" Snape grumbled. He flicked his wand mid stride, opening the double doors in front of them. Nearly forty third-year students were scattered around the courtyard, conversing in small groups. They quickly snapped to attention when they saw Snape.

"I didn't tell them you were coming," Hestia whispered in his ear. Snape felt a slight rush when her hair brushed against his neck. He quickly stepped away towards the center of the courtyard. There was dead silence, so he didn't need to amplify his voice.

"I expect all of you to behave yourselves. I will be most… disappointed if that is not the case."

He looked over the students and saw forty heads bob up and down. They had probably been planning on taking advantage of the new professor to run amok. That wouldn't be the case with him around.

"I wouldn't test him," Hestia called out.

They proceeded towards the carriages with the group of students a few paces behind. The crisp October breeze was refreshing at first, but by the time they reached their destination, Snape was happy to leave it behind. He stroked the neck of a thestral as they approached the foremost carriage.

"What are you doing?"

Snape looked at Hestia. She seemed genuinely puzzled. "Petting the thestral?"

Her face lit up. "The carriages are pulled by thestrals? I always assumed they were charmed."

Snape shook his head as he opened the carriage door. He beckoned Hestia in and followed after her. "A common mistake. You have never seen a death?"

The witch shook her head slowly. Retrospectively, Snape wasn't surprised. She was a few years younger than him. At the peak of the wizarding war, her biggest worry had likely been her O.W.L.S. Eleven years later, she was a professor. Still, she had not dealt directly with some of the events that had shaped and hardened those that sat besides her at the head table. At that moment, Snape felt older than his years. Hestia remained silent, likely waiting for him to share. He did not oblige her – in his mind, the past was better left locked away.

The testrals broke into a steady trot, and he settled against the plush leather backrest. The village was a half hour walk from the castle, but only ten minutes by carriage. After a lengthy pause, Hestia broke the silence.

"Where are you going to take me?"

Snape was jarred out of his thoughts. "What?"

"When we get to Hogsmeade?"

Snape stared at her for a moment. It looked like she was serious.

"I am not going to 'take' you anywhere. We have to split up and patrol the streets to make sure the students do not misbehave."

"They're all too afraid of you to 'misbehave'. Besides, we can't keep an eye on all forty of them at the same time. If something does happen, we would find out about it after the fact regardless of whether we are walking up and down the streets for hours on end." Hestia crossed her arms at the end of her long-winded speech.

Snape lowered his head, pinching his forehead. Typically, when students talked back, he gave them detention. In this case, that wasn't an option. Besides, she made a good point. Worse yet, deep down he felt excited about spending more time with her.

"Fine. Where do you want to go?"

Hestia giggled. "Don't ask me. You're the wizard… you are supposed to decide."

"Ceridewen's Cauldrons?"

Snape couldn't resist laughing at Hestia's slack jawed response. "Joking. How about the Hog's Head Inn?"

Hestia raised her eyebrows. "Really, you would take a witch to that dingy old pub?" She turned her head to the side so that she looked out out the window, and pointedly not at Snape.

He ran his hand through his hair. "It's a decent place. Dumbledore's brother is the proprietor. Students don't go there, so we wouldn't be seen."

Hestia turned back to Snape, her mouth twisted in a scowl. "You don't want to be seen with me?"

"That's not what I mean," Snape interjected quickly. "Where would you rather go?"

Hestia faced relaxed. She leaned back in her seat, tapping her chin. Snape sighed. He was not a big fan of theatrics. A glance out the window revealed that they were only a couple of minutes away from Hogsmeade now.

"What do you think of Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop?"

"Absolutely not."

Hestia sighed exaggeratedly. "Three Broomsticks it is…"

"Alright." Snape didn't feel too happy about their choice. It would undoubtedly be packed with students. On the other hand, they could at least pretend that they were doing their job and keeping an eye on things. All rationale aside, he was glad they had decided on something. He didn't think he could take any more back and forth.

The trees outside the carriage changed to grass, and soon they began to see buildings. A short while later, the carriages stopped moving. Snape stepped out the door, followed by Hestia. When all of the students had exited their carriages, he addressed them.

"You all know how you are expected to behave. If I am forced to repeat myself, it will be unpleasant… for you. We will meet back here at 4:00pm sharp. Dismissed."

The students began to disperse into the village. Their silence quickly morphing into a cacophony of excited conversations. The thestrals began to trot back to the castle without any instruction. They were more intelligent than muggle horses, and Hagrid was a good trainer. They would be back at the correct time – more reliably so than some students.

Snape turned towards Hestia. She cleared her throat, pointing her chin at his arm. He was confused for a moment, but quickly realized what she wanted. Sighing, he offered his elbow. She smiled, linking her arm through the crook. "Onwards then?"

He nodded. They began walking towards the Three Broomsticks. The streets were relatively quiet apart from groups of students scattered here and there. Most adult wizards chose to shop at Diagon Alley or one of the other large commercial centers in major cities. Hogsmeade was mostly frequented by students and the occasional tourists. Thanks to the weekly Hogsmeade visits – with each of the five eligible years visiting once every five weeks – all of the shops and services were open on Saturdays.

When he walked through the front door of the Three Broomsticks, Snape's earlier suspicion was confirmed. At least a third of the students on the trip had chosen to start the day off with a butterbeer. As they approached the bar, which was located on the far side of the room, he noticed several students turning around to look at him and Hestia. Some appeared puzzled, while others were grinning. A scowl from Snape made them turn around to their butterbeers.

Rosmerta was more polite and got straight down to business. "What will it be, professors?"

"Two butterbeers." replied Snape. He placed four sickles on the counter, and turned around to look over the room. All the students were pointedly NOT looking at him and Hestia. Content, he turned back to the bar. Once Rosmerta had finished filling their tankards, he led Hestia towards the far corner of the room.

He sat at a small table that offered some modicum of privacy, but also gave a good view of the entire Inn. Seconds later, he cast a privacy charm that would reduce their conversation to a muted garble should anybody try to eavesdrop. The background noise was so great that the necessity of this preventative measure was debatable.

Hestia raised an eyebrow at the display of magic. "That is an unusual spell – where did you find it?"

"I created it."

"Impressive, although most people would just cast the standard privacy bubble."

Snape smirked. "The privacy bubble also blocks out sight, and that tends to draw attention. Besides, we don't want students coming up with theories. My method is more discreet, and only interferes with sound. In fact, I doubt any of the students here even realize I've cast. They probably think they are merely sitting too far away to make out our conversation."

Hestia nodded thoughtfully, before raising a finger. "It wouldn't be necessary in the first place if you had agreed to Madam Puddifoot's."

Snape grimaced. "I don't like that place."

He would never forget the last time he had visited Hogsmeade as a student. It had been raining, and most of his peers had sought refuge indoors. Snape had been walking alone on the way to Dogweed and Deathcap for some potions ingredients to use for his N.E.W.T. project. He was thoroughly soaked and miserable by the time he passed by Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop. As he walked past the one of the front windows, he was treated to a clear view of James Potter snogging Lilly. The tea shop was a common haunt for couples, but most had the decency to sit at one of the more private nooks and crannies before they got down to it. Arrogant Potter probably wanted the whole world to know he was kissing the prettiest witch in the school. Snape had stood there in rain for a couple of seconds. Just long enough for James to catch his eye and wink. It had taken Snape every ounce of restraint he had not to storm in and curse his rival to pieces. Instead, he walked to the herbology shop, got what he needed, and never set foot in Hogsmeade again for the remaining months of his final year at Hogwarts.

Hestia was undeterred. "Surely you took a witch or two there in your your Hogwarts days."

Snape did not respond, instead looking away from her. He was debating if he had made a mistake coming here with her, when he felt her place her hand on top of his. He looked up at her face, slightly confused by the gesture.

She smiled. Not the mocking sort of smile Snape had often been subjected to in his school days, but a genuine one. Its warmth pulled him out of his memory of that chilly February afternoon.

"It's OK if you haven't. I'm as just as pretty and twice as interesting as any of those girls, and I would love to go there with you whenever you are ready."

Snape stared back. A sarcastic jab was on his lips. Decades old habits did not come undone so easily. The emotion swelling in his chest helped him overcome this urge. He smiled back.

Just as he was about to speak, a patronus burst through the nearby wall. It stopped just short of Snape, flapping its wings in an elaborate rhythm before disappearing. The combination of the phoenix patronus and the coded message it had flapped was unmistakable. Dumbledore was calling for help, and he needed it now.

Snape jumped to his feet. "I'm sorry, but I must go now."

She rose as well, a confused expression on her face. She had no doubt recognized the patronus, and the urgency on Snape's face was clear. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Snape nodded quickly. "Keep an eye on the students." With a pop, he apparated to the limits of the Hogwarts wards. He paused for a second, then attempted to apparate to the headmasters office. To his surprise, the magic worked. As he landed in front of Dumbledore's desk, he realized that the man must be in truly dire straits if he had temporarily lifted the wards in his office.

He looked around the room, and found Dumbledore sitting on the floor – leaning against one of the bookshelves. He quickly approached him, and the old man lifted his head slowly.

"Severus, I have never been so glad to see you..."

"What happened?"

Dumbledore tilted his head to the left, and lifted the blood soaked compress pressed against his neck. Snape grimaced at the nasty bite wound oozing with dark, venous blood. The headmaster covered the wound once more.

"Vampire?"

The old man nodded, and Snape promptly ran to the Floo. Seconds later, he was in his potions office, and in less than a minute, he was back at the headmaster's office with a box of assorted vials and a bandage kit. The headmaster was unconscious.

He lifted Dumbledore's hand off the wound, and quickly poured one of the vials over the gaping bite-marks. The mixture would clean the wound, as well as nullify the anticoagulant present in the vampire's saliva. He rinsed his own hands with the remaining contents of the vial.

Next, he unstoppered a glass jar, and took out a dollop of the paste inside. He liberally applied this paste over the bite wound, plugging the fang marks. With a tap of his wand, the paste solidified until it had the consistency of wax. Finally, Snape pulled out a sterile compress, and placed it over the wound. After fixing it in place with a sticky bandage, he tapped the cloth with his wand, and it changed color to perfectly match Dumbledore's skin tone. One short incantation later, it was impossible to visually determine the man had ever been wounded.

Satisfied, he levitated Dumbledore and carried him into the bedroom adjacent to the office. He placed the man down on the bed, and pulled a series of flasks from his box. One by one, he downed each blood replenishing potion down the headmaster's throat until some color began to return to his skin.

Now that the immediate crisis was averted, he pulled a large silver syringe from the box. After breaking a glass ampule and loading the contents, he plunged the needle directly into Dumbledore's heart. The vial contained a short term break on the progression of vampirism, as well as a magical stimulant that would give some short term energy.

Less than a minute later, Dumbledore sat up by himself. He lifted his hand to his neck, and smiled as he felt the bandage. "I take it the injury has been stabilized."

"Yes."

"Thank you. I suppose I should explain how this happened."

Snape nodded slowly. "That would certainly make treatment easier. Make no mistake, you may feel alright now, but you will be taking potions to halt the progression of the vampirism for the rest of your life."

"Yes, I suppose that is unavoidable. Still, death can't be too far off for an old man like me. Let's see… I suppose I should start with just after you left for Hogsmeade."

Over the next half hour, the headmaster told his story of tracking down Quirrel, venturing down into the barrow, and confronting the would be professor. Who was also a vampire… and possessed by the dark lord. Snape nearly fainted at that last revelation. He had never truly believed that the dark lord was dead, but hearing solid evidence in support of this notion was something else entirely. After Dumbledore finished his tale, they sat in silence for a few minutes as Snape tried to process the information.

"You said his soul was destroyed by the wards of the barrow…?"

Dumbledore tilted his head side to side. "In a fashion. Tom seemed convinced that his death would not be final. This suggests that he had another means of returning, and his death today was not complete."

Snape pressed his index fingers together, tucking them under his chin. "Why are you telling me this information." He knew Dumbledore trusted him, but the old man was usually far more reluctant to share more than was necessary.

The headmaster smiled. "I can't think of very many other people that I can trust not to share this information. Even fewer that I can trust to stay calm, and to defend it against legimency or veritaserum attempts." He trailed off for a moment before resuming. "In addition, my near death experience today has convinced me that it may be prudent to be more forthcoming with such vital information in case I die unexpectedly."

Snape nodded. He didn't particularly want to be privy to such dangerous secrets, but it was likely better for him to be Dumbledore's confidant than somebody less capable. "What happens now?"

"I will spend the next few weeks conducting research on how Tom was able to survive that night eleven years ago, and why he was convinced he would survive his death today. More immediately, you can describe the various potions and precautions I will need to take to keep vampirism at bay."

Snape nodded, smoothly transitioning into his professor persona as he described each of the potions. Fortunately, he had stilled the progression of the disease within a couple of hours of the bite. The worst symptoms Dumbledore was likely to experience would be a craving for under-cooked meat, and a higher than normal susceptibility to sunburn. Of course, this was if he stuck to the prescribed potions regimen. By the time Snape finished, the sun had set.

* * *

"Harry Potter, seeker and pyromaniac extraordinaire!"

Jordan's quip drew a mixture of laughter and booing from the stadium – no doubt evenly split between the Hufflepuff and Slytherin spectators. Harry cursed under his breath as he stepped onto the pitch. He was hoping people had gotten over his broom catching fire at the previous match. As Jordan had so eloquently demonstrated, this was not the case.

Unfortunately, it would probably be only the first of many such jokes at Slytherin's expense. It was usually up to the professors to keep the biased announcer in check. He doubted the Hufflepuff head of house would stop something that might annoy the Slytherin team into not playing their best. Harry's head of house hadn't even shown up to the game.

According to the Slytherin gossip mill, he had shown up unannounced to the previous day's Hogsmeade trip, spent the entire time with Jones, and then left abruptly only an hour into the outing. At breakfast, the girls – and Daphne in particular – had insisted that Snape's early departure must have been because of a lover's spat between the two professors. Harry himself didn't want to believe. Thinking of Snape and romance in the same sentence was nightmare fuel.

As it was, the man's absence at the quidditch match meant that the Gryffindor announcer had full liberty to ridicule Slytherin. The best way to deal with it would be to thoroughly crush Hufflepuff on the pitch. Prior to the match, Flint and the guys had been confident that they would do just that. Harry had boisterously agreed, but he secretly worried if he would be able to do his part.

The opposing seeker, Cedric, was two years above Harry. He had played during his second year, so he had considerably more experience. That wasn't even the worst part. Harry had only been flying on the Silver Arrow for one week, and he didn't feel ready for a match. The new broom was incredibly maneuverable, but after flying on the comet for over a month, Harry had a tendency to over-steer. On top of that, he didn't quite have a handle on the broom's swift acceleration.

Casting the doubts out of his head, Harry took his position. Madam Hooch looked around the field. Content that everybody was in place, she prompted the players to mount their brooms. A few seconds later, the whistle was blown, balls were released, and Harry flew up to a better vantage point. He took his time, reluctant to show off the true speed of his broom before it was necessary. He wanted the element of surprise on his side.

A Hufflepuff chaser was the first one to make it to the Quaffle, but tossed it back to a teammate when he spotted Flint heading his way. Adrian and Cassius quickly joined their captain in pressing the Hufflepuff offense. It quickly devolved into a game of keep-away. The Hufflepuff's were quite good at passing, and Harry's teammates were having trouble intercepting the quaffle. On the other hand, the 'puffs weren't making much progress towards the Slytherin hoops.

A couple of minutes later, Cassius' chaser managed to slip past him and raced towards his objective. He made it to the hoops, and scored the first ten points of the match. Miles looked frustrated at failing to make a save, and handed the ball off to Cassius, who had been just behind the scorer.

The other two Slytherin chasers joined in on a coordinated offense. The Hufflepuffs appeared to be playing a zone defense on their half of the field, and did not harass the incoming chaser formation until it began encroaching on this territory. At that point, they attempted to scatter the Slytherin wedge with their own counter-wedge, but a well timed bludger forced them to part. This allowed the trio on offense to drive through to the hoops and score an easy ten points against the hopelessly outnumbered keeper.

Immediately after scoring, Flint and Co. fell back a couple of dozen meters and started playing interference with the Hufflepuff chasers.

Flint had outlined this strategy before the match. Playing defense so close to the Hufflepuff hoops was risky – if even a single chaser broke free, he would have an uninterrupted path to the Slytherin hoops, where Miles would be on his own without defending chasers. However, this full-pitch press would prevent the Hufflepuffs from forming up effectively, and create a gridlock that would slow the pace of the game.

Slowing things down was in Slytherin's favor because it gave Lucian and Peregrine time to outplay the opposing beaters. It already seemed to be working. For the first few minutes of the match, the Slytherin beaters had been directing most of the bludgers back at their Hufflepuff counterparts. They had gotten in a couple of minor hits, and coupled with the knowledge of what had happened to the twins two weeks ago, the Hufflepuff beaters were afraid to go anywhere near Peregrine or Lucian.

With the bludgers firmly in their control, the Slytherin beaters began laying down a storm on the Hufflepuff chasers. Coupled with the aggressive defense by Flint and his chasers, the opposition's offense ground to a halt. Similarly, scoring became much easier for Slytherin. Jordan sounded close to tears by the time he announced a 130-20 lead for Slytherin.

Harry could see that Cedric was growing increasingly anxious. A few times, the Hufflepuff seeker tried to join his team's chasers on their attempt at an offense. These excursions were largely unsuccessful. While the extra body gave the Hufflepuff chasers enough momentum to score two additional goals, Cedric had to keep one eye on the quaffle, and another eye out for the snitch.

Unfortunately, he did not have a third eye to look out for bludgers. A solid hit to the flank courtesy of Lucian nearly took Cedric off his broom. While the seeker managed to stay on, Harry noticed that from that point on he avoided leaning to one side or the other.

The score was 210-50 by the time Harry spotted the elusive snitch. He immediately shot towards it, easily twice as rapidly as he could have on the old Comet. The rumbling of the crowd rose in a crescendo as they spotted his flight towards the snitch.

Cedric tried to cut across to where the snitch was headed. The colors seemed to blend by as Harry pushed his broom forward. The air rushing by his ears drowned out all sound. Only seconds into the chase, the snitch took a sharp turn to the right, throwing both the seekers off. Harry did his best to stay on his trail. He only over-steered slightly, but it cost him a couple of seconds to correct his flight path.

Cedric looked to be having similar difficulties with the turns since he couldn't lean to the side very well. No doubt the bludger strike was making any twisting or stretching of his torso an excruciating proposition.

They wound up on equal footing, but Harry quickly broke ahead with a burst of speed. By the time the snitch crossed to the other side of the stadium, he was a full five meters ahead of Cedric. The golden orb was only a couple of arm-lengths away when they reached the stands. Unfortunately, it abruptly plunged downward towards the crowd beneath. Harry pulled his handle upward, and guided his broom through a pathetically loose inverse loop. Cedric managed to reach him, but had an equally difficult time pulling out of his trajectory.

After it had dropped to a height just above the heads of the spectators, the quidditch began to fly parallel to the stands. Harry cursed as he followed. The hyper-sensitive Silver Arrow made avoiding bodies quite difficult. He had to fly at half his normal speed, and Cedric quickly caught up to the point that they were neck-and-neck once again.

Harry felt torn. He could accelerate and endanger the spectators, or keep going at his current speed and allow Cedric to pull ahead. His mind was a storm of fear and worry.

Something inside him shifted, and he felt the emotions fade away. It was like the occlumency lessons he had with Snape, but on a more profound level. He did not have to focus on pushing out the emotions – it was automatic. The only thing left behind in his mind was the image of the snitch dashing just a few meters ahead.

Silently – thoughtlessly – Harry channeled his intent into the Silver Arrow. It put on a burst of speed, dashing him forward. The snitch seemed to be moving more slowly. Instead of seeing the heads of spectators, Harry only saw the empty spaces between them. He did not oversteer. Each minute movement of his body only changed the course of his broom just enough to follow this path. A couple of seconds later, he had his hand around the snitch.

The startled yells behind him were drowned out by a chorus of cheers as he rose above the stands, snitch in hand. The occulumancy trance gently faded away. He pumped his fist in the air as a surge of pride filled his chest. He had caught his first snitch!

* * *

"I still can't believe what I saw," Theo paused to take a bite of omelet – only chewing for half a second before swallowing it down. "I've never seen anybody move that fast outside of an actual League match."

Draco stiffed a sigh. "We know that – we were there."

The stringy boy tossed his head side to side. "Sure, but you don't appreciate it like I do. There's no way we are losing a single game this season."

Harry was seized by a coughing fit as his pumpkin juice went down the wrong pipe. He appreciated Theo's confidence in him, but he didn't want that much pressure on him just yet. The previous weekend's win over Hufflepuff had been great, but he wasn't sure he could replicate all of what had happened.

Gregory slapped him on the back, and Harry nearly went face-first in his porridge. He quickly threw a hand up before the other boy could strike again. "I'm fine now, thanks."

Draco peered at Harry with a raised eyebrow before going back to cutting his breakfast sausage. "What's on the menu today?"

"Umm, eggs, bacon, fried bread..."

"I meant classes..."

Vincent frowned for a second before laughing in a surprisingly high pitched tone. Draco put down his utensils and rubbed his temple with his fingers.

Harry cleared his throat, finally rid of the last of the pumpkin juice. "I think it's herbology with the Hufflepuffs and potions with Ravenclaw."

"We also have Astronomy tonight with Draco's favorite house."

The blond boy threw a piece of sausage at Theo. "I think you mean Harry. He's the one that spends hours at the library with his Gryffindor girlfriend."

Harry felt himself go red. He didn't even like Hermione – at this point it was more of a habit than anything. Besides, she was pretty useful when it came to writing essays.

"Hey, she's not my girlfriend. Besides, it's not like we study alone... anymore."

Draco smirked. The git was probably satisfied he got a rise out of him. "Don't be so glum. I'm sure she'll come around now that you're a star seeker."

Harry flicked a spoonful of porridge in Draco's direction. The blond boy nearly jumped off his bench.

"Watch it! This is an acromantula-silk blend."

The girls sitting further down the table turned towards them.

"Can't you afford to buy a new one?" Theo piped in.

Draco was speechless for a moment. He put on an unfazed expression. "Of course. I just don't want to make the trip to London again to get measured."

"If the tailor already measured you once, they probably have it written down somewhere."

The girls giggled, and Draco turned pink. A second later, Theo yelped and reaching under the table to rub where Draco had kicked him. The blond boy pulled out a silver pocket-watch, deftly flipping it open.

"Oh look at that, time for herbology." He quickly got up and proceeded to walk towards the doors, the back of his neck slightly flushed. The girls turned back to their conversation, no doubt now focused on Draco.

Vincent, on the other hand, stared down at his food with an expression so pitiable that it tugged at Harry's heart. There was still a proper heap, but only half of what Vincent had piled on his plate at the beginning of breakfast. "But I still haven't finished eating..."

Harry decided to help out the boy. "It's alright, we still have at least ten minutes left before we need to head out. Maybe Draco's watch is running fast..."

Reassured, Vincent got back to eating. Harry tried to follow suit, but Theo went back to talking about the quidditch match. He kept his responses as short as possible while shoveling down porridge at each opportunity to do so. Harry now understood why Theo was so scrawny. He'd probably spent every meal at home lecturing his dad about quidditch.

Herbology turned to be a bore as usual. They spent the entire class mixing soil for what the fourth years would be planting. During the first couple of weeks of school, Harry hadn't understood why herbology seemed to be lagging so far behind his other classes on the coolness scale. It seemed like he and his classmates were very limited in what they were allowed to do, and most of it didn't involve a wand at all. Fortunately, Neville had broken it down for him in the library one evening.

In the greenhouse, magical plants were grown in a custom made soil mix combined with charms to control temperature, humidity and light. In some cases, astronomy played a role, and the plants had to be grown within specific time constraints.

The fifth, sixth, and seventh years got to do most of the planting and harvesting since these were often the most complicated and dangerous steps. In many cases, the process involved spells or potions knowledge that was beyond the reach of lower years. In addition, collecting the wrong part of a medicinal plant could poison somebody down the line, and potting a mandrake or another dangerous plant incorrectly could be fatal.

The third and fourth years were responsible for feeding and watering the plants, as well as the basic temperature and humidity charms. The second and first years, including Harry himself, were mostly stuck in lectures. Apart from that, their main hands on activities consisted of with mixing soil (which was diligently checked by older students before actually being potted), prepping plant food, and occasionally potting or trimming some of the least sensitive plants.

Harry was relieved when the bell chimed his freedom from mixing any more dirt. Unfortunately, potions turned out to be almost as boring. Professor Snape was only present for the first couple of minutes of class. As soon as he had explained the in-class essay they would be working on, he disappeared through a side door.

Most of the class assumed that the professor had prepared some unpleasant trap for whoever slacked off, so the entire sixty minutes were silent save for the scratching of quills and flipping of pages. By the time Harry emerged from the classroom, his hand was sore from writing. He walked down to the great hall with the other first years, none of which were particularly happy about the way their morning had turned out.

"Merlin, if astronomy is half as bad I might throw myself of the tower."

"Stop being so dramatic Tracy," Daphne replied, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, stooop it, Tracyyy," Draco interjected in a falsetto voice. Daphne held up her hand, and her friends stopped walking. Harry and the guys followed suit, curious to see what would happen.

Daphne walked over towards Draco until she stood just a half a meter away from his face.

"Wh...what are you doing?"

Daphne remained silent. Harry hadn't noticed it before, but she was a few centimeters taller than Draco. With surprising speed, Daphne's arm shot up and she began ruffling Draco's hair. The blond boy tried to twist away, but she kept after him.

"Cut it out! You're messing it up."

The girls burst out in laughter. Harry and Theo tried to restrain themselves, but they only lasted seconds before they joined in. Vincent and Gregory stood by, unsure of what to do. A few weeks ago, they might have helped their friend. Now… they weren't sure if he wanted them to.

Draco answered that question when he pulled out his wand, quickly casting a low powered knock-back jinx. Daphne staggered back a few steps as Draco took the chance to try to smooth back his hair.

"Wow, you did not just do that!"

Harry turned around. He spotted a couple of second year Hufflepuff boys headed their way, wands drawn. They stopped just short of Draco.

"This isn't any of your business..."

"I'm making it my business, you little goblin. You can't go around jinxing girls."

"I'm not a goblin, trollface."

The second years laughed, glancing at each other before turning back to Draco.

"You may be right about the first part, I've never seen a goblin with hair as messy as yours. Now, trollface? That's what your's is going to look like if you don't apologize to her right now."

"He doesn't have to apologize to me, we were just playing around..." Daphne interjected.

"No, I think he should. He needs to learn his lesson."

A small group had gathered around them – mainly the first year Ravenclaws from potions and a smattering of second and third years.

"Leave him alone, Piers," somebody in the crowd called out. "He's just a first year."

Instead, Piers took another step towards Draco, this time poking him in the chest. "Apologize."

Draco seemed to have had enough, because he picked that moment to cast another knockback jinx – this time at Piers. It seemed to have taken the two second years by surprise, and Draco seized the chance to cast again, this time at the other boy.

" _Tarantallegra_!"

The charm made contact, and its victim fell to the floor, his legs trashing wildly. Meanwhile, Piers had recovered, and cast back.

" _Liberacorpus_!"

Draco screamed as his feet were pulled out from underneath him so that he was suspended upside down. His wand clattered on the stone floor. Harry winced. It looked like the duel was over.

Piers raised his wand again. " _Rictusempra_!"

Draco trashed about in mid air. At first he laughed, but after a few seconds he began to wheeze.

"Stop it Piers!" A girl in the crowd called out. There were at least twenty people watching, so it was a bit sad that she was the only one speaking up.

"It's just a tickling charm," the boy called back. He maintained the spell.

Draco didn't seem to be doing too well going by the panicked look on his face, let alone by the sounds he was producing. The tickling seemed to be crossing a line into torture. Worse yet, it didn't look like anybody else was going to step in.

" _Protego!_ "

Harry cast the shield in between Draco and Piers. The older boy broke it off, and Harry heard Draco fall to the floor.

" _Petrificus Totallus!_ "

This time, the spell was aimed at Harry. It found its mark before he had a chance to recast his shield. Harry felt his limbs lock up. Piers grinned as he took a step forward, casually twirling his wand.

"Ah, Slytherin's star seeker. Pity the same can't be said for your duelling skills."

Piers raised his wand, but he paused before casting. In less than a second, the blood seemed to drain out of his face.

"Put it down, Bennet."

Snape's voice was unmistakable, and it was music to Harry's ears. Piers hastily lowered his wand.

" _Finite_."

Harry felt his limbs relax. "Anybody that is not involved in this… situation… should leave lest they become involved." The group of spectators quickly shuffled off down the hallway. "Not so fast, Malfoy. Judging by your disheveled appearance, I am sure you played a role."

Draco turned scarlet, but began walking back towards Snape.

"Now… I don't have time for this today. I expect to see all three of you in my office tomorrow at 8:00pm sharp. Leave."

Harry and Draco didn't need to be told twice, and they walked off towards the great Hall, taking an alternate route away from Piers. Draco still looked a bit shaky, but he mustered the strength to speak up.

"Thanks, Harry. I owe you one."

"Anytime. I don't like bullies."

They walked in silence for a couple of minutes. "What do you think is for lunch?"

Draco groaned softly. "Don't even talk about food. I still feel like I'm going to hurl."

"I have to. Vincent isn't here - If I don't talk about food, who will?


	16. Protego

It had been a long day for Harry – charms, transfiguration, and history of magic. The last class in particular had dragged on forever. It was always worse having Binns after lunch. It made it that much easier to fall asleep. Luckily, Greggory had been kind enough to poke Harry each time he dozed off.

The sound of approaching footsteps brought Harry back to reality. He was relieved to see that it was Draco. The blonde boy had been a bit awkward around Harry since their fight with Piers. Harry chalked it up to an uneasiness with expressing gratitude. Draco probably wasn't used to feeling like he owed anybody anything.

"Is Snape not in yet?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm not sure. I think I'm going to wait until 8:00 pm before I knock. Don't want to take any chances here."

Draco nodded as he shuffled uneasily. "Hey Harry… thanks again for yesterday."

"Don't thank me – it's bad enough that everybody else has been all over me today for catching the snitch. Besides, we should be thanking Snape for breaking up the duel. Piers had me at his mercy near the end."

"That shielding charm was rather good though. I don't think anybody else our age can cast one."

"All the good it did – Piers still managed to paralyze me."

Draco pushed himself off the wall, turning to face Harry. "He's a second year. Besides, I think he just got lucky. Anyway, I have something to share that you might like."

Harry arched his eyebrows. "Go on…"

"Father is taking me to an IDF tourney next weekend. I thought you might like to come along."

Harry smiled back. It was the first time any of his housemates had invited him to do something outside of Hogwarts. "What's the IDF?"

"International Dueling Federation…"

"In that case, I definitely want to come."

"Fantastic. I'll fill you in on the details as it gets closer to…"

The door swung open, revealing Snape. The potions master stepped aside, beckoning them into the empty office. Harry nodded at Draco before stepping through. He was followed by his friend. Snape closed the door behind them before turning to face the duo.

"Explain."

Harry was about to speak, but Draco beat him to it. The blond boy gave a lengthy description of how he had been playing around with Daphne when the second year Hufflepuff boy had picked a fight with him. He only embellished a few points, and graciously pointed out how Harry had no part in it prior to stepping in to stop Piers' tickling charm. Snape listened quietly until Draco had finished his tale before turning to Harry.

"Do you agree with Draco's account?"

Harry nodded quickly.

"Alright then. What did you learn, Draco?"

"I shouldn't get into duels I can't win?"

Snape nodded slowly. "That's a good start. I would add not to get into fights with girls, since that's how the whole thing started. Even when you win, you lose."

Draco shook his head quickly. "She was the one who started it though, by ruffling my hair."

"Maybe she likes you."

Draco jumped back. "Who, Daphne? Not a chance. Besides, Pansy would rip her hair out if she thought Daphne liked me."

"I was being humorous. I doubt she feels anything for you."

Harry chuckled at Snape's bait. He fell silent when the professor turned to look at him. "And what did the 'boy who lived' learn?"

Harry cleared his throat. "I need to get faster with the shielding charm."

"That would be wise. You might also want to follow up with a jinx instead of just standing there like a fool."

"Yes, sir."

"Of course, you could also try minding your own business. You don't have to interfere in Draco's squabbles."

Harry bit the inside of his cheek. He knew that Snape was testing him, but he wasn't sure what the potions master wanted to hear. "If I let people pick on my friends, next time they might decide to pick on me. Besides, I'm sure Draco would have done the same for me."

Snape barked a laugh, shaking his head as he uncrossed his arms. "I'll believe that when I see it."

"Hey, I look out for my friends…" Draco muttered, turning to Harry. "Didn't I invite you to the tourney?"

Snape's eyes locked in on Draco.

"My father has tickets to the IDF finals. Are you going, professor?" Draco answered with a smug smile.

Snape shook his head with a smirk. "No, this job does not pay that well. Besides, I'm far too busy." Snape raised his finger to his chin, a puzzled expression on his face. "Here's a question, did you obtain permission from Harry's guardian?"

Draco's smile wilted away. "Why wouldn't they let him come? Britain is hosting the finals, anybody would kill to go."

"Be that as it may, you would still need permission… which I doubt you will be getting."

Draco groaned. "I don't see why Harry's muggles get to decide where he can go."

Harry looked back and forth between the two. He agreed with Draco of course, but saying so probably wouldn't change things one way or another. Besides, he didn't want to interrupt such an interesting conversation.

Snape nodded slowly, jutting his chin forward as he scrunched his eyebrows. "I do see your point Draco. Hmm… if only there was a staff member coming along with you. It wouldn't even have to be a professor – maybe somebody on the Hogwarts board of governors?"

"Father! But he's the one that would be taking us there. Wait... this entire time you've just been getting a rise out of me!"

"I couldn't resist. Now, unless you have something else to share, Draco, you may leave. If anybody asks, you were punished for dueling in the corridors."

"What should I say?"

"Make something up. Be sure it is in line with my reputation."

Draco walked to the door with a grin. Snape looked after him until the door swung shut. At last, he turned to Harry.

"What do you make of Draco's invitation?"

Harry hesitated for a moment, but the answer seemed simple enough to him. "I think Draco wants to thank me for helping stop the Hufflepuff boy."

Snape tutted softly. "You are only probing the surface."

Harry sat down in a chair. If that wasn't it, maybe Draco was trying to secure Harry's friendship? By now, Harry knew that Draco liked him better than the three other boys in their house. "He wants to be my friend?"

Snape frowned. "I thought you already were friends. Forget about Draco. Who else is going with you two. Who bought the tickets?"

"His father?"

"Precisely. How much do you know about Draco's father?"

Harry ran his fingers through his hair. "Not a whole lot, really. Draco is in awe of him. It's always father this, or father that."

"Remember when you attacked poor Draco during the first week of school – what was that about?"

Harry's eyes grew wide. How could he have forgotten? Ron and Neville had said that Draco's father had been on Voldemort's side when his parents were killed.

"My parents… Draco's father helped kill them!"

"In a manner of speaking… you could also say that the house elves help teach potions by preparing my breakfast. As far as anybody knows, Draco's father had no direct role in your parent's murders."

Harry took a breath, his first since his realization. "You are saying he was innocent?"

Snape raised his palms. "No. I did not say that. I said he did not kill your parents directly. He did not cast the curse that killed them, and he did not inform the Dark Lord where they slept. A lack of guilt in that specific tragedy does not mean he is innocent in all other matters."

Harry took another breath and unclenched his fists. He looked down at his hands – his palms had furrows where his nails had dug into his flesh. "What does this man want with me?"

A smile broke across Snape's face. "The thousand-galleon question. What do **you** think he wants with you?"

"No more games, just tell me…"

"Be careful how you speak, Potter… I am your head of house – I do not take orders from you." Snape replied with a frown. "Still, I am sure you have had a long day, and I have much work left to do, so I will tell you what I think."

Snape leaned back in his chair. "Your first line of reasoning had some merit. I imagine Draco does want to be your friend. You are far more exciting than Nott. Crabbe and Goyle deserve no mention. By elimination, you are the only remaining candidate. Draco needs somebody to show off for."

"As for his father – Lucius has a keen interest in his son, and by extension the people his son spends his time with. He no doubt wants to assure himself that you are not corrupting his heir."

Harry looked up at Snape. "That sounds… very simple."

Snape shrugged. "The simplest explanation is often most suitable. How do you feel about Draco's invitation now?"

"I'm… not sure how to feel about it. I don't think I want anything to do with Draco's father if he served Voldemort."

"If that is the case, you may as well pack your things and move to a hut in the forbidden forest. Nearly half of our nation's wizarding population served Voldemort in one way or another – some by choice, and some through force. You must learn to get along with these people."

Harry placed his head in his hands. The memories that Dumbledore had shown him were still fresh in his mind. He didn't care if Draco's father hadn't been involved in killing his parents, as far as Harry was concerned, he was still guilty by association.

At the same time, Draco was his friend. Besides, Harry really did want to watch the dueling tourney – he had never seen an actual duel between adult wizards before. He straightened up and looked ahead at Snape.

"I'll go to the tourney. My parents didn't run away from Voldemort – I'm not running away from Draco's father."

"As I recall, that same sense of bravado led to their demise."

Harry jumped to his feet, his hand on his wand.

"Oh, did that make you angry? Perfect time for an occlumency lesson. _Legilimens!_ "

Harry hadn't even seen the professor draw his wand, but he immediately felt the familiar pressure in his head. It felt stronger than ever – it really did feel like Snape was putting his all into it this time. Harry reined in his anger, and pushed out against the pressure.

He heard Snape inhale sharply, and saw a series of incoherent images in his head. They were more like blurs of color and motion than anything else, really.

The images were cut off just as sharply as Harry felt himself thrown down onto his arse. He looked up and spotted Snape staring at him with a puzzled expression.

"Good. Not only did you stop a strong vocalized legilimency probe, but you even managed a weak counterattack. Don't get too excited just yet. Get up, and we'll see how your shield charm is coming along."

Harry rose to his feet and settled into his dueling stance. Snape unceremoniously cast a red jet of light at him. It struck Harry before he had time to voice the incantation, and everything went black. When he came to, Snape was still pointing his wand at him, only Harry was now lying on the floor.

He rose to his feet. "What was that?"

"Stunning spell. More advanced than the disarming jinx or knockback hex you have been learning, but more common in actual duels."

"Why is it more common?"

"There is a certain finality to rendering your opponent unconscious. You don't have to worry about him recovering from being knocked down, or casting wandless magic. Try again."

Snape cast once more. Harry was just as hopeless in blocking the spell as the first time around. When the professor reinnervated him, he paused after rising to his feet.

"I don't have time to speak the incantation with you casting first," Harry muttered, his voice laced with frustration.

"Speak faster than me."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I can't, you are casting wordlessly."

"Is anybody forcing you to do otherwise?" Snape questioned, raising his eyebrows. "One more time."

Harry growled in frustration, and settle back into his stance. This time, he focused on the memories of his mother protecting him from Voldemort, much as he usually did when casting verbally. Only this time, he did not let go of the magic. Instead, he held onto it before it could leave his wand. Just as he saw Snape's hand begin to move, Harry felt a pain shoot through his forehead. He released the magic just in time to block the incoming jet of light.

They both stood speechless for a moment. Snape spoke first.

"This was supposed to be a lesson in humility, but once again you have spoiled my plans."

"You told me to cast wordlessly."

"Yes… but I did not think you would be able to do it. Again."

Harry settled into his stance, and let the magic well up inside him, spurred forward by the feeling of protection he drew from his memories. This time, it was a little bit easier. The red jet of light dissipated harmlessly into the shield.

Without warning, Snape cast a third time. Before Harry could bring up the magic, he lost consciousness. He awoke to Snape's voice.

"What happened this time?"

Harry rose to his feet slowly. "I'm not sure how to explain it… I didn't have time to gather my magic before you attacked."

"That will change with practice. If you were to attack me, I wouldn't need time to focus my mind or my magic – I would block instinctively. Keep at it, and you will do likewise."

Harry nodded eagerly, settling back into his defensive stance. Snape shook his head, gesturing towards the door. "That is enough for today. I have other matters to attend to. I would congratulate you on what you have achieved here today, but I don't want to stoke your ego any further. Keep practicing bringing your shield up silently in your spare time."

Harry nodded once more. "Thank you, professor." He began to walk towards the door.

"One more thing, don't let anybody know what you learned here today. You are not quite ready to apply this knowledge in an actual duel; we wouldn't want you – or your opponents – overestimating your abilities."

"Yes professor."

Harry walked back to the Slytherin common room. Apart from a few students here and there, the halls were deserted. Inside his head, Harry worked at summoning his magic – each time stopping just at the point he would have cast the spell.

* * *

"Hurry up Harry, Father doesn't like to be kept waiting!"

Harry pressed his pillow over his ears. The dull thudding of Draco pounding on his door faded away. With a sigh, he threw aside the pillow and got to his feet. They had to wake up for quidditch practices earlier than this, but that still didn't make getting up at 7:00am on a Saturday any easier.

"Coming, Draco!"

Harry pulled on the set of robes he had lain out for himself before he went to bed. After grabbing his wand, a handful of galleons, and putting on his shoes, he was ready to leave. As he opened the door, he nearly caught Draco in the face.

"Watch it!"

"Sorry - you shouldn't stand so close!"

"Never mind that, let's leave. We have to be at Snape's office by 7:15."

Draco's fears turned out to be unwarranted – they made it to the potion master's office with minutes to spare. The man opened the door and beckoned them in. A bright green fire was already roaring in the fireplace.

"Get on with it then. Do try to learn something while you're there… this is supposed to be an educational trip," Snape added with a smirk.

Draco nodded at Snape, and marched right up to the fireplace, disappearing into the green flames. Snape grabbed Harry's shoulder as he walked past.

"Wait a moment. Do be polite to Lucius while you are there. You don't have to like him, but you are his guest. Sometimes you have to be nice to people you don't like – especially if you are a Hogwarts professor." He let go of Harry's shoulder. "Go on then. What I said about learning from the duels – that goes double for you."

"Right, professor." Harry followed Draco into the flames.

As he emerged on the other side, he was struck by the opulence of the space he was in. It was many times larger than Snape's office – the ceiling was nearly as high as the one in Gringott's. While it couldn't quite compare to Hogwart's Great Hall in terms of size, it was far more richly decorated than any place Harry had been in before.

The floor was made of polished black wood. It stood in stark contrast to the white carvings covering the walls. Bronze supports fanned out from the walls to support the ceiling, which was inset with pieces of colored glass that shimmered in the light. The chamber was lit by tall candelabras – the light cast by their candles abnormally bright, no doubt through magic.

Draco was waiting next to the fireplace. He seemed to be waiting for Harry to take in the sight, but couldn't resist for long. "How do you like it?"

Harry tore his eyes away from the ceiling, and turned to face the blond boy. "It's a bit empty, isn't it?"

Draco shrugged, "it's a ballroom… there is supposed to be space for people to move around. Besides, mother says not having clutter in it makes it look bigger."

"That makes sense. What do we do now?"

"We wait for father to arrive."

Draco had barely finished speaking when the set of double doors on the far side of the ballroom swung open. A tall, long-haired figure strode into the room. He was wearing a long black coat over an embroidered silver vest. The cane in his hand tapped rhythmically against the ebony floor as Lucius crossed the door. Harry had a feeling it was just for show. This man looked every bit as agile as the boy in the old dueling club photo that Draco had shown Harry. He stopped a couple of meters away from Harry.

"Mr. Potter, welcome to Malfoy Manor."

Remembering Snape's words, Harry bowed slightly. "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. Please, call me Harry."

"Very well, Harry." Lucius smiled, although it didn't quite reach the upper half of his face. "Have you had breakfast yet?"

"No sir."

"The tourney will run all day. Draco, show your friend to the parlour."

"Yes, father." Draco began walking forward without further prompting. "Follow me, Harry."

They made their way out through the same double doors which Lucius had used to enter. Harry heard a soft pop behind him, and turned his head to see Lucius speaking to a deformed creature that looked like a skinnier version of a goblin. He waited until they were out of earshot before turning to his friend.

"Draco, what was that thing?"

"What thing?"

"The goblin-looking thing."

"Oh, that's one of our house elves. Don't mind them, they do only what we tell them to."

Draco led them through a couple of corridors. The walls were now lined with wood panel instead of fresco. Portraits hung here and there, their occupants eyeing Harry as he walked by before turning to whisper to their neighbors.

Soon, the duo reached a large door that swung open as Draco drew near. The parlour was decidedly cozier than the ballroom had been. The floor was covered with finely detailed rugs – the sort that normal people would hang on their walls. The walls themselves were painted with scenic landscapes. Fortunately, they did not move. Ornaments and decorations lined the many little tables and shelves in the periphery of the room.

The center was dominated by an oval table. Somehow, Lucius was already sitting at the head. Their host gestured towards the table, and Harry waited for Draco to take a seat before settling down across from his housemate.

"I'm pleased you found the parlour, Draco. I was afraid you might have forgotten the way."

Draco's face turned scarlet. "I'm sorry it took so long, father."

"No need to apologize. At any rate, we are still waiting for your mother."

"Wouldn't she still be in bed this early?" Draco's voice was hesitant, but Harry could detect some underlying apprehension.

Lucius raised his eyebrows. "And risk missing a breakfast with her beloved son?"

Harry didn't think it was possible, but Draco's face turned an even deeper shade of red.

"She wouldn't dream it. Besides, I sent an elf to inform her of your arrival, and I was told she has already risen."

With a loud pop, a large spread of food and drink materialized on the table. The contents were similar to what was available for breakfast in Hogwarts. The plates and cups, however, were clearly precious heirlooms.

"Help yourselves, gentlemen."

Draco began to pour some pumpkin juice into his cup from a large crystal pitcher, and Harry followed suit by taking a croissant. It was delicious, possibly even better than the ones at Hogwarts. Moments later, the door opened to reveal the most beautiful woman Harry had ever seen. She had flowing blond hair, and high cheekbones set underneath sky-blue eyes. Her plush lips, painted a rich ruby-red stood out over her delicate chin. She walked towards Harry, and offered her hand.

"Welcome to our home, Mr. Potter."

Harry was still staring at her face, but snapped out of it just in time to realize he was supposed to kiss her hand. He hastily swallowed the piece of croissant in his mouth, and took her hand, pecking the back lightly. "Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy."

Draco's mother smiled slightly, and turned towards Lucius. "Good morning, Husband." He raised his goblet with a small nod. Finally, she turned to Draco, and her face broke into a full beam. She smoothly walked around the table and enveloped him in a tight hug.

Draco struggled, albeit halfheartedly. "Stop it, mother. You're embarrassing me…"

Mrs. Malfoy pulled back, but not before kissing him on the cheek. She took a seat to Draco's right, opposite Lucius. "How have you been since you last wrote?"

"It's only been a week, mother…"

"Well, I'm sure it has been packed with excitement."

Draco shook his head. "Rather boring really. Classes, quidditch practices, pretty typical…"

"Severus tells me you had a fight with another boy," Lucius interjected.

Harry nearly choked on his croissant, but Draco's mother didn't seem to notice.

"Draco! Were you hurt?"

"No! I'm fine. It wasn't a big deal, really…"

"What happened?"

"Daphne was messing with my hair, so pushed her back a little. Some Hufflepuff second year saw us, and he felt he had to stick his nose where he doesn't belong."

"Did you win?" Lucius asked bluntly.

Draco looked like he was going to say something, but then held back at the last moment. "No… he hoisted me up with some sort of spell and had me under the tickling charm. Harry broke it with a shield charm, but Piers got him with a body-lock."

Lucius turned to look at Harry. "A shield charm as a first-year? That's very impressive."

"Thank you, sir. Draco forgot to mention that he incapacitated another boy with a 'dancing feet' jinx before Piers hit him with his spell."

Lucius nodded in Draco's direction. "That's nice, although I can't help but wonder why my son would start a fight with two older boys."

"I didn't have a choice, father! They were going to attack me anyway, I just seized the tactical advantage by casting first."

"That may be so, but you should learn how to diffuse these situations verbally – particularly when you are outmatched. It is an important skill-set to have for when you are working in the ministry. I can't simply curse my colleagues every time we have a disagreement."

"Your father is right, dove. I don't want you getting into any more fights."

"And if you do find yourself in a fight, be sure you win."

"Lucius…"

Mr. Malfoy shook his head slightly, but did not add anything further. Harry, meanwhile, was trying not to laugh. Draco reminded him of many things, but never a dove. His occlumency training was the only thing that prevented him from losing control.

He was rescued by a question from Draco's mother. "Mr. Potter, how are you enjoying quidditch?"

"It's a lot of fun, Mrs. Malfoy. It can be stressful at times, but I feel like the team always comes together and we give it our best."

"It certainly seems that way. We were there for your first match. You played wonderfully – it was quite a shock when your broom caught on fire."

Harry blushed. He wasn't sure what got to him more – the embarrassment of Draco's mother being there for the one match he lost, or that she saw him crash.

"I'm sorry you had to see that. We did much better in our second match."

"It is such a dangerous sport. Bludgers... brooms catching on fire... it's almost like they want you boys to get hurt."

"Mother..." Draco groaned. "Brooms almost never catch fire. Besides, we have our own beaters to protect us from the bludgers."

"You sure do," Lucius added, "I would try to stay on their good side. They were vicious against the Weasleys. Not that I blame them - I dare say I would send something worse than a bludger at Arthur's head if it wasn't beneath me."

Harry frowned at that. He didn't know why Draco's father didn't like the Weasleys. At the same time, Harry himself didn't like most of the Weasleys he had met, so he couldn't blame him.

"Let's not talk politics at the table, husband."

Mr. Malfoy nodded reluctantly. He pulled out a pocket-watch, and took a look before returning it to his waistcoat. "I don't think we have the time for politics. The tourney will be starting in less than an hour. We will want to leave now so that we can get settled in."

"It was nice meeting you, Mr. Potter." Draco's mother added. She turned to her son, and adjusted his collar. "Be sure you write me this weekend, dove."

Draco blushed once again, but he nodded dutifully before getting up to follow his father. Harry joined them as they filed out of the parlour. Mr. Malfoy led them up a winding flight of stairs to an unremarkable door. He opened it to reveal a small closet containing shelves packed with small metal medallions. He picked one up, and peered at the lettering on its surface.

"Here we are, this portkey will take us to just outside the arena. Place a hand on my shoulder, and we will be off."

The boys nodded, and did as they were told. Lucius spoke the trigger word, and Harry felt a gut-wrenching sensation as the portkey whisked them away.


	17. International Dueling Federation

_The boys nodded, and did as they were told. Lucius spoke the trigger word, and Harry felt a gut-wrenching sensation as the portkey whisked them away._

* * *

Harry managed to stay on his feet as the portkey brought them to their destination. He couldn't help feeling proud at this new personal achievement. They were standing in the middle of a small circular chamber. The floor, walls, and ceiling were made from roughly hewn gray stone. A carpeted path ran from the center of the chamber towards the only point of egress – a Roman arch. Mr. Malfoy began walking along the path, and the boys followed suit.

"Where are we?" Harry whispered to Draco.

"Somewhere in London, I think."

"Draco's correct," Mr. Malfoy spoke, still looking ahead. "This is a ministry compound – typically used for law enforcement training. It is deep underground and heavily warded against magical damage, so it was selected as the venue for the event. Naturally, as a high ranking ministry employee I was given access to a private portkey arrival chamber."

Harry could see where Draco got his boastfulness from. The chamber they had portkeyed to opened into a much larger area. This one was packed with small groups of people, with more arriving by the minute. Many of them wore clothing distinctly different from anything Harry had seen in Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley. The majority seemed to be using the lengthy row of fireplaces built into the far wall. Others were apparating onto marked lanes. While the arrival area dominated most of the space, most groups were walking towards a large set of double doors on the left.

Mr. Malfoy led the trio towards the doors. "We should be just in time for Team"

"Team?" Harry questioned.

"It's the first event," Draco replied. "After that, there is Standard, and then there will be Freeform. In Team, three groups of three compete against each other. They won't know what the arena is like until the duel beings. It's my favorite event."

That did sound pretty cool to Harry. He had never seen people dueling in groups before. "That sounds fun. What is Standard?"

"One on one, official spell-list," replied Mr. Malfoy. "Standard happens to be my favorite."

"I think it ends too quickly."

"That may be, Draco, but the better duelist always wins in Standard. I admire cunning more than most, but there is something to be said for upholding the purity of the sport."

"What about Freeform?"

"Freeform is also one on one, but there are no rules," Draco replied.

"That's mostly correct. There are some rules of course. The main distinction is that the duelists are not limited to a predetermined list of spells."

They passed through the double doors just as Mr. Malfoy finished correcting Draco. A series of staircases wrapped in front of them like a fan. Mr. Malfoy picked one without breaking stride. That staircase led to another series of choices, and then another. By the time they had climbed the last set of stairs, Harry's legs were a little sore. On the bright side, the crowd of people around them had thinned out to the point that the trio were alone, with a single curtained entrance in front of them.

Mr. Malfoy swept aside the curtain, revealing a balcony. It was roughly the size of Harry's room at Hogwarts. An oval table occupied the center, with a handful of ornate chairs organized in a half circle facing the railing. As Harry stepped into the enclosure, he saw that the shelves pressed against the wall were stocked with snacks and beverages.

"I'm afraid I must excuse myself," Mr. Malfoy spoke. "Draco, I trust you remember how to activate the charm?" The blonde boy nodded, and Mr. Malfoy stepped back out through the curtain.

"What was that about?" Harry questioned.

"Father probably wants to mingle with his business acquaintances. There are people coming from all over the world today."

"Really?"

"It's the **International** Dueling Federation."

"Right. Who's in the Team event?"

"Let's check." Draco tapped a button on the railing. Harry nearly fell out of his chair as the railing – along with the floor – became transparent. All he could see beneath them was a vast cloud of black smoke.

"What the hell was that!"

"Relax, Potter." Draco had probably been planning this, the git. "There is a charm pre-built into the balcony that lets us see the entire arena below us. It also has standard ominocular functionality built into it."

Harry settled back into his chair, relieved to learn that he wouldn't be swallowed by the black cloud. "Why can't I see the arena?"

"They keep it hidden until the duel starts. I think it makes it more fun. This way, you're going into the duel just as clueless as the duelists themselves."

Harry nodded appreciatively. He turned around in his chair. While the front half and the floor of the oval shaped balcony were transparent, the shelves and curtain behind them were still visible.

"Can we take food from the shelf?"

Draco nodded, grinning. "Of course. It's all been paid for already." He took a bottle from the shelf as if to prove a point. A pair of cups materialized on the table. Draco poured a sizable amount into his cup, and then into Harry's.

"What's this?" Harry questioned, peering into his cup.

"Butterbeer. Try it, it's good."

"Should we be drinking beer?"

Draco made a face. "It's not like muggle beer, if that's what you mean. You would have to drink a bucket of butterbeer to get drunk. Unless you're a house elf..." Draco burst into laugher.

"What?"

"I just remembered the time I made Dobby get drunk."

"Who's Dobby?"

"One of our more useless house-elves. Forget about it. Are you going to try the butterbeer?"

"Can you try yours first?"

Draco rolled his eyes before taking a big gulp out of his cup. "Satisfied?"

Harry nodded with a grin before following suit. "This is really good."

"Of course it is," Draco drawled. "This is imported stuff, not the swill they serve in Hogsmeade."

"You've been to Hogsmeade?"

"Well no, but I doubt their butterbeer is any good."

The smoke beneath them began to change turn grayish. Draco put down his cup. "Oh good, the duel is going to start in a few minutes."

"Do you know who's playing," Harry reminded.

" I forgot I was going to check." Draco pressed another button, and a list momentarily materialized just above the railing. "it's America, Sclavenia, and Germania."

"Well, I've heard of America."

"Oh right. You probably don't know much about wizarding history."

"If Bins hasn't said it, it's safe to assume I don't know it. Unless it's about Goblins. I kinda read up on them after my first trip to Gringotts."

"Germania covers most of central Europe. Sclavenia spans from the Adriatic Sea to the Arctic. Their borders haven't really changed much in over a thousand years."

"What about all the muggle countries."

Draco shrugged. "It's not like wizards need to worry about muggle borders. We can apparate, portkey, or even just fly over them. Muggle wars don't particularly concern us either. Except for Grindelwald's War, but that's different."

Harry nodded slowly. Maybe he should paid more attention in History of Magic. The smoke beneath him began to dissipate, and almost immediately, he saw flashes of magic on one end of the arena.

"Oh look, it's starting."

The arena was covered with marshy ground. Large moss-covered rocks stuck out of the ground here and there. From his bird's eye position, Harry could see two different teams in separate corners of the triangular arena. Draco was on the edge of his seat, leaning towards the transparent railing.

"That's the Americans on the right in the blue uniforms. The Sclaves are on the left in the red. I'm not sure where the Germans are… they've probably disillusioned themselves."

The trio in blue were slowly advancing across the edge of the arena. They seemed to have picked a direction at random, and it was taking them towards the unoccupied corner where the Germans had started. The trio in red were staying put, although they were hard at work with their wands.

A minute passed by. The arena was roughly the size of a quidditch field, but the mucky ground seemed to be slowing the Americans down. They were almost at the corner when the mud started crawling up their legs. Draco tapped another button, and their view seemed to zoom in on the action.

In less than a second, the mud was nearly up to their chest. Meanwhile, a flurry of spells were cast at them from behind. Harry was sure the Americans were goners, but the spells collided with a dome that had shimmered into existence. Meanwhile, one of them was muttering a counter-spell, and the mud gradually receded. He was just in time, because the next barrage of spells shattered the dome.

Another one of the American duelists, a witch sporting a long braid, slashed her wand horizontally. A wave of muddy water was hurled in an arc that resembled a small tsunami. Harry wasn't sure what she was trying to do until he spotted a muddy outline in the vague shape of a person step behind a rock.

The witch shouted something to her team-mates, who were busy blocking spell-fire from a nearby outcrop. They let their shields drop and simultaneously pointed their wands at the rock concealing the muddy figure. It shattered into a hundred smaller rocks, all of them shredding through the space that had been occupied by the figure.

As soon as they had cast, the duo apparated by their teammate, narrowly dodging a couple of curses. They cast another pair of shields as they turned to face the rocky outcrop that was now sending spells their way.

"Risky…" muttered Draco. Harry turned to him raising his eyebrows.

"I've seen a team get wiped by a anti-apparation trap before."

Harry nearly cursed at Draco as the boy zoomed out their view, but caught himself when he spotted the red team pushing towards the position held by the blue-clad Americans. A giant lumbering monstrosity made of hardened mud was leading the way, brandishing a giant boulder like a shield.

"What is **that**?"

"Whatever it is, it looks like trouble," Draco replied, panning back to the Americans, who were now advancing on the rocky outcrop, undeterred by the multicolored spells coming their way. The braided witch was on point, raising columns of mud from the ground as a makeshift screen while they dashed from boulder to boulder.

Harry cried out as one of the blue duelists was struck by a spell. His teammate cast a screen of black ash from his wand, and battery of follow-up curses aimed at the downed player missed. Still, it seemed to be for naught as the prone American vanished a second later.

"Looks like the emergency portkey was activated," Draco commented. "Each of the duelists has one sewn into their robes. If they are injured to the point of incapacitation, it will pull them out of the duel and to the medics."

Harry nodded. The two remaining Americans had hunkered down behind a boulder. They were exchanging spells with their invisible opponents. One of them pointed their wand at the sky, and a torrent of black rain began to pour down over their portion of the arena. Harry could now make out the duo of disillusioned figures casting from behind the opposing rocky outcrop.

"Why don't they apparate behind the Americans?"

"I have no idea," answered Draco. "Maybe they can't do that and stay disillusioned at the same time?"

A roar echoed across the arena as the enchanted monster spotted the Americans. The creature burst forward with an unexpected display of speed, the red clad Sclaves struggling to keep up behind the cover it provided. The Americans were now casting at the mud monster, their blasting charms leaving hollow craters in the boulder it brandished.

The Germans chose that moment to re-enter the fray by sending a torrent of lilac fire at the Sclaves. By this point, the later team had advanced past the German position, and a pair of them now turned around to address the threat at their back.

One of the red-clad duelists raised a wall of water, but the fire blasted through, leaving a geyser of steam in it's place. The duo called out to their teammate, who was in position by the mud giant. In a split second, the monster wheeled about and hurled its boulder at the rocky outcrop held by the Germans. The lilac fire dissipated as they threw themselves out of the way.

Meanwhile, the American duo took the opportunity to apparate to another position before sending more spells at monster. Now that the boulder shield was gone, their blasting charms began to dent the monster itself. It seemed to be heavily resistant to their efforts, and they quickly gave up, instead apparating once more so that they placed themselves on the other side of the German team.

The yellow-clad Germans no longer bothered keeping up their disillusionment charms. They were busy sprinting in opposite directions, shielded by shimmering half-spheres of metal, as two of the Sclaves chased behind, firing curses as they ran.

The Americans joined the Germans in casting at the two Sclaves, who gave up their chase and fell back to a defensive position. Meanwhile, the two German duo went back to back – their metal half-shields now providing near complete protection, with just enough clear space for their wand arms.

"Looks like the Americans are trying to even the playing field," spoke Draco.

It did make sense. There were three Sclaves against two duos. If the Americans or the Germans fought each other, they would only set themselves up for worse odds when they had to face the red-clad team. One of the Sclaves was overwhelmed by no less than three simultaneous spells, and was whisked away by his emergency portkey.

Unfortunately, the German team seemed to have forgotten about the mud monster. A massive rock hurled by the creature crashed through their back-to-back formation, crumpling their metal shields like foil. One of the German players was immediately pulled away by his portkey, while the other attempted to banish the mangled mess of metal and rock pinning him down. He was incapacitated by a quick stunner from the Americans.

"That's what I like about the Team event," commented a grinning Draco. "All alliances are very much temporary."

The Sclaves and the Americans were now evenly matched. The red-clad duelist who had been chasing the Germans now apparated to join his teammate behind the monster. The creature charged forward towards the Americans.

Meanwhile the blue clad team stuck their wands into the marshy ground in unison. The muddy terrain beneath the monster swelled with water, quickly swallowing its heavy form.

The red clad player that had been following the monster for the duration of the duel – a grim looking witch – began casting for the first time. The trapped golem dissolved into mud.

"Do you think she was controlling it the entire time?"

"Looks like it," Draco replied, his eyes fixed on the duel. Meanwhile, the Sclave wizard apparated out of cover to a flanking position to the left of the Americans, while the with kept pressure on their opponents with fast barrage of curses. After the wizard had materialized at his destination, he seemed to just stop moving. A split second later, he was hit by a nasty looking spell and pulled out of the duel.

Draco quickly tapped a series of buttons, and a voice boomed through their balcony. "...wove it into the clever piece of transfiguration they used to neutralize the golem. What a stealthy use of an anti-apparation curse." Draco fiddled with the controls again, muting the announcer.

"I told you apparating is risky," he added with a smirk.

The two Americans now broke out of cover, banishing pieces of rock at the Sclave witch as they advanced on foot. She dived back down behind her cover, whirling her wand over her hand.

A massive lasso of bright red fire streamed out from the witches wand, forming a thick circle of flames around her position. The flames expanded into a protective dome, shielding her from view. The Americans seemed undettered, continuing to advance right up to the edges of the flames. The braided American witch pointed her wand at the edge of the circle, and the flames parted to create a clear lane.

The American wizard moved into the lane, fashioning a shield of hardened mud in front of his body. Draco panned their view so that they could look over his shoulder. The wizard cautiously advanced to the rock, only to find nobody behind it. He immediately whirled around just as the flame dome collapsed on him.

Draco quickly panned out just in time to catch the braided American witch struck from behind by a storm of rocky rubble. She was quickly whisked away by her emergency portkey. The red clad Sclave witch was standing a few meter behind her.

"Wow, looks like she apparated out of the dome, and somehow managed to bypass the anti-apparation curse." Draco zoomed in, and Harry could see that the witch was levitating a few centimeters above the ground. "Ha, that's clever."

By now, the flames had dissipated completely, leaving behind a dome of blackened mud where the American wizard had been. Harry leaned in, holding his breath. He jumped back in his seat as the dome exploded into a hundred fragments, all of which were sent flying at the Sclave witch.

She deflected the fragments with a sweep of her wand. The American wizard rolled away just as she sent the fragments at the space he had been occupying. He trust his wand forward as rose from his roll, and a loud sonic boom blasted through the arena.

The Sclave witch was thrown back a couple of meters, landing in the mud. She attempted to recover, but the American was already sending an exceptionally quick barrage of stunners her way, one of which hit home and put her out of the duel.

The American wizard pumped his fists into the air, collapsing to his knees. He stayed there for a couple of seconds, but then began to rise confusedly. Draco tapped a button on the panel, unmuting the announcer.

"… Merlin, he doesn't realize! I can't watch!"

The American wizard just stood there for a few seconds before an expression of epiphany swept over his face. He attempted to cast a spell, but was a split second too late. A red stunner struck him between the shoulder blades, taking him out of the duel.

A lone figure faded into view behind him, it's robe torn, muddy, and blood splattered - but undoubtedly yellow. The smiling German bowed at the waist, just as a black cloud of smoke obscured their vision.

"Germania wins! I haven't seen a turn like tha..." Draco pressed a button, muting the announcer.

"Why do you keep muting him," Harry asked.

"I can't stand Bagman voice," Draco answered with a frown. "It's bad enough hearing him announce quidditch matches, but somebody at the ministry felt it would be appropriate to hire him for this. So what did you think of the duel?"

"I'm still not sure what happened at the end there…"

Draco nodded pressing another button on the railing. Eight faces popped up, all of them corresponding to the duelists that had been defeated. "It looks like the first one to go down was one of the Americans." Draco gestured towards the face, and they blue clad duelist collapse after being struck by a spell, and get pulled out by his portkey.

Draco gestured to the side, and time seemed to run backwards. He stopped just before they shattered the rock where the lone dissilusioned figure had leapt. "Well, either that was an illusion or his injuries weren't serious enough to pull him out of the duel. "

"Maybe he just apparated out," Harry added, "I don't think the anti-apparation trap was up at that point."

Draco nodded. "Maybe. At any rate, splitting their team was a bold move for the Germans. We could always just ask him ourselves..."

"What do you mean?"

"There is a reception at the end of the day. It's mostly for politicians and distinguished guests, and father is obviously invited. I'm sure most of the duelists will be there – certainly the champions."

"Wow, that's terrific."

Draco grinned, and was about to add something when the smoke turned gray. "Looks like it's about to start."

The curtains swept aside behind them, and Mr. Malfoy stepped into the balcony. "Ah, I see I am just in time for Standard."

* * *

 **AN1: Sorry about the months long delay. I've been incredibly busy with school, but fortunately summer is nearly here.**

 **AN2: I'd like to thank BrilliantLady for helping me out with some spelling/grammar corrections in the previous chapters.**

 **AN3: What do you think about the dueling scene? Which countries do you want to see in Standard and Open?**


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